


Never All Together

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-03
Updated: 2007-06-16
Packaged: 2019-01-19 17:55:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12415044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: “I loved you then, and whatever sin it is, I love you still!”� Hermione Granger never imagined her wildest fantasy of being with James Potter could come true. But while for Hermione it was just yesterday, for James it had been nineteen years ago. A sweeping tale of how love transcends time, just to prove it can. [James/Hermione]





	1. Never the Time and Place

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

**Disclaimer:** The author is not directly affiliated with J.K. Rowling or any of the publishers of the Harry Potter series. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Author’s Notes:** I didn’t realise there were some Hermione/James fics going around! I didn’t read any of them anyway, lest they influence the story I’ve already thought out. I am hoping this turns out to be unique. And hey, this is a slightly AU fic, just in case you didn’t notice, so non-compliance with canon must be expected. But I hope I left enough canon in it to endear this story to your heart, anyway. :) I would also like to thank my wonderful beta Bobbey, (NalanieKeala), who spotted the grammatical errors, identified the inconsistencies and made the story sound more British. Thank you for agreeing to beta for me! :)

**Chapter Summary:** Hermione looks into Harry’s face and sees hazel eyes.

 

****

Chapter 1: Never the Time and Place

_Never the time and place_  
And the loved one  
All together. 

_\--- Robert Browning (Never the Time and Place) ---_   


Wide-set eyes enhanced by mascara stared out at her from the mirror. She smiled, turning at various angles to admire her reflection. The dress fit her like a glove, its cut fashioned to show off her slim shoulders, shapely legs, and a hint of cleavage.

 _I’m sure they’ll like you._ Hermione Granger tugged upwards at her dress in an attempt at modesty. It would do good to let Harry see her like this tonight, but Harry was not the only one she would be meeting. She would finally be introduced to Harry’s parents as their son’s girlfriend, and she simply had to impress them.

Lily and James Potter. One of the Wizarding world’s celebrity couples, the Minister of Magic and his charming wife were so highly looked upon that an event was rendered incomplete without them. James Potter was credited with defeating the most evil wizard of all time, Lord Voldemort, seventeen years ago. He had since risen up the political ladder.

Hermione applied a bit more tint to the apples of her cheeks as her mind conjured up an image of the Potters. Both had undoubtedly been blessed with not just incredible good looks, but youthfulness as well. At thirty-five, they looked almost the same as they had at seventeen – and according to Harry, bickered all the time, but were still very much in love with each other. 

She could remember all too well the first time she had met the Potters. It was at the Leaky Cauldron, before her second year started. She was with her Muggle parents when a striking couple seated a few tables away caught her eye. The woman had fiery reddish hair and vivid green eyes, and was with a man with dark messy hair and eyes hidden behind black-rimmed glasses. The sight of them struck a chord somewhere inside her heart. She did not know how, but they looked familiar. _Very_ familiar.

* * * * * * *

“Hermione? Hermione Granger?”�

She spun around at the sound of that voice and broke into a wide, toothy smile.

“Harry!”� she called, then realised that more than her voice had called out his name. She glanced in the direction of the extra pair of voices and saw that it came from the couple she’d noticed earlier. The sense of familiarity she had earlier faded into a feeling of stupidity. How could she have not noticed? She locked eyes with the man and was startled by their hazel colour. It was the only physical trait he and Harry did not share.

The teenage boy with the same dark messy hair, but with vivid green eyes instead of hazel, walked over to the Grangers’ table. He smiled disarmingly at the three of them before engaging Hermione in conversation. “I see you’ve been to Flourish and Blotts,”� he remarked, indicating the _Standard Books of Spells, Grade Two_ that Hermione was holding.

“I see you’ve been to Gambol and Japes,”� Hermione retorted, picking a Dr. Filibuster’s Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Firework that protruded out of Harry’s pockets. She twirled it around her fingers. “Sit down, why don’t you?”� She turned to her parents, who were obviously waiting for her to say something.

“Mum, Dad, meet Harry. Harry Potter. You know, the youngest player in a century to play for a Quidditch team.”� Harry’s eyebrows rose. “He’s in my year and in the same house as mine,”� Hermione continued, ignoring Harry’s expression, “and he is…”�

“What about saying I’m your friend?”� Harry interjected with an impatient look on his face.

“I was just getting to that,”� Hermione shot back. “He’s one of my two best friends, actually. The other one’s Ron.”� She smiled. “I hope you’ll also get to meet him.”�

“I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Granger,”� Harry said courteously. “Why don’t you join us at our table so you can meet my parents? I’d like to introduce them to Hermione as well, who is,”� he said, casting an amused look at his friend, “the smartest student in our year, who always finishes reading the booklist before term starts, who…”�

Hermione swatted him on the arm. “Oh, shut up.”� She stood up, and her parents, both of whom were looking uncomfortable, followed suit. “Where are your parents?”�

Harry gave her a surprised look. “You haven’t noticed? I mean, given your all-knowing mind and superior powers of observation and…”� He stopped when he saw her eyes narrow murderously. “Oh, right. Over there,”� he indicated with the jerk of his head. Hermione had somehow expected it, but was still surprised when Harry led them to the table occupied by the couple that had caught her attention earlier.

“Running around Diagon Alley again?”� the man with hazel eyes greeted, a hint of a smile on his lips. “Been in Gambol and Japes, have you?”�

The same hint of a smile appeared on Harry’s face. “Yeah, Dad. I ran out of fireworks. And then I went to the Owl Emporium and grabbed boxes of treats for Hedwig.”� He showed off the shopping bag containing all the items he had purchased. 

“Next time do tell us where you’re going, okay?”� the man said. The woman beside him smirked, and he laughed and turned to look at her. “Now what did that mean?”�

The woman’s smirk turned into a sweet smile as she regarded her son fondly. “Harry, we’re embarrassing your guests.”� Her eyes settled on Hermione. “You must be Hermione Granger. Harry told us how you helped him out of some scrapes he got into last year.”� She paused, then remarked, “You’re the voice of reason in your trio, then?”� Hermione blushed.

“Sometimes,”� Hermione replied, still blushing. “Thank you for your kind words, Mrs. Potter. My parents,”� she introduced, gesturing to her mum and dad. 

“I’m Lily Potter,”� the redhead said, shaking each of the Grangers’ hands. “Have a seat, please, and join us for lunch,”� she invited warmly. “Oh, and this is my husband, James. James Potter.”� The man offered his hand in turn and assured their guests that they would love their company.

“Mum didn’t mention it, but Dad is the Minister of Magic,”� Harry piped in. Hermione’s eyes widened. Apparently James noticed, because he laughed out loud. “It’s okay, Hermione. You can still call me Mr. Potter. Even ‘James’ would suffice.”�

“Another pathetic attempt at humility,”� Lily remarked, laughing afterwards.

Hermione was still staring at James, her mouth slightly open. “Sir, does this – does this mean–?”� She hesitated a moment, then plunged on, “Does this mean that you are the James Potter, the one who conquered the Dark Lord back in 1981?”�

James’s strong features were suddenly drawn in an uncharacteristically grave expression. He pondered the teenage girl for a moment. “Yes,”� he answered slowly. “Why did you ask?”�

Hermione’s face broke into a sunny smile. “Oh, sir, I am simply honoured!”� Harry sniggered at her pompous choice of words. “I was so stupid! I read all about you in the history books, even saw pictures of you, but I didn’t even connect you being related to Harry! You are a hero!”�

“I don’t think that was a compliment, eh?”� Harry said, blinking confusedly.

James smiled, but the shadows in his eyes lingered. “Thank you, Hermione. I don’t think you’ll quite understand, but I’ll say it anyway. My victory – I call it that for lack of a better term – was not only due to my own skills or wits. I had a lot of help you know, and some people were not even credited…”� Pain flashed across his eyes. “But thank you all the same, Hermione.”�

An air of gloom followed these words. “Shall we talk of lighter things?”� Lily asked gently, intervening.

Hermione looked at her, once again taken by her beauty and wishing she could be like her when she grew up. “Oh, yes, Mrs. Potter. Harry has told me how Mr. Potter – ah – worked very hard to convince you to like him when you were in school.”�

Lily laughed her clear, musical laugh. “Harry! I can’t believe you told her that,”� she said, still laughing. “Yes, dear, James here had to work very hard. I fought it, you know.”� She winked. “Unfortunately, I fell prey to his charms.”� James smiled reminiscently and Lily laughed again, then turned to Hermione’s parents. “So you’re non-Magical? I came from a non-Magical family too, you know, and…”�

Hermione had already tuned her out, reflecting on the idea that it was quite impossible for anybody, male or female, not to end up being charmed by James Potter.

* * * * * * *

Shaking off her memories, she reached for her bottle of perfume on top of her dresser and lightly misted her body with it. She took one last look at herself in the mirror and smiled, the dimple in her left cheek making another appearance.

_Beautiful. Almost as beautiful as Lily Evans._

* * * * * * *

Harry Potter paced the Gryffindor common room restlessly, his hands in his slacks’ pockets. He stole a glance at the ornate clock that hung over the fireplace. She had agreed to meet him at quarter to six, and yet he had not seen so much as the tip of her toe or a strand of her hair. Five more minutes and they would be late for dinner. Harry grinned despite his nervousness. It was amazing how much time a girl could spend staring at herself in the mirror. But it was going to be worth it, he was certain.

He settled himself in an armchair and imagined Hermione wearing the off-the-shoulder, knee-length lavender dress she had purchased in Diagon Alley the day before. He inhaled deeply. Merlin, she was so wonderful, he sometimes had a hard time believing she was his. Not only was she enchantingly beautiful, she also exuded an aura of elegance and self-possession that could only come from being naturally smart. Hermione was everything he ever wanted in a woman he was willing to spend the rest of his life with.

Tonight was going to be extra special because he was finally going to introduce Hermione to his parents. Not as the smartest student in their year, but as the most fantastic woman he had ever met. He had no doubt that they were going to like her, having seen for themselves how she had grown up to be the way she was.

He caught a whiff of vanilla before he heard her soft footsteps. Harry looked up to his right and saw Hermione standing over him. She smiled, the light from the fire glittering in her brown eyes. His own green eyes met hers, transfixed. He would never tire of watching her.

“I’m sorry I took longer than expected,”� Hermione said, gently breaking the spell. “I misplaced my silver hoop earrings, and I didn’t want to wear any other pair, so…”� She shrugged, shaking the curls that framed her face. Harry did not know how she had dolled her hair up, but he definitely liked it.

He stood up and slid his right arm around her trim waist. “Are we ready to go, then?”� When Hermione nodded, her hair brushed his face and the sensation triggered a flurry of emotions inside him. Straining for control, he brushed the curls behind her left ear and said, “Dad has talked with Professor McGonagall about using the fireplace in her office, and she said it’s okay.”�

“I wish we could just Apparate,”� Hermione commented as they walked out of the common room. “Floo powder might stain my dress.”�

Harry kissed her cheek. “You’ll still be beautiful.”�

Hermione glanced at Harry, taking in his long-sleeved wine-coloured polo and dark slacks. His polo was unbuttoned at the collar, emphasizing the clean, athletic cut of his jaw. He looked so much like his father. “You look rather dashing yourself, Harry.”� She cupped the back of his neck with one manicured hand, tilted her face up, and pressed her lips against his passionately. The kiss grew deeper, and when they both pulled apart, they had to straighten their clothes and hair.

“We probably look like we were caught in a storm,”� Hermione said, laughing as she wiped the smudges off the corners of her mouth.

“We were,”� Harry reminded her laughingly as they made their way out of the common room. “It was worth it, though, being naughty just now. After all, we have to be on our best behaviour for the next couple of hours.”�

Hermione laughed. “You don’t sound so excited.”�

“I am.”� Harry looked her in the eye, and Hermione knew he was serious. She felt uncomfortable whenever Harry looked at her this way, as though he was rushing her into a lifetime commitment. “But I’m nervous, too.”�

“Don’t be.”� It was all she could say.

Harry knocked on the door of Professor McGonagall’s office before entering. The deputy headmistress looked up from her work when they entered.

“Ah, Mr. Potter and Miss Granger. I’ve been expecting you. Quick, or you’ll be late.”� She pointed at a brass urn atop the fireplace. “Floo powder is in there.”�

Harry walked over to the fireplace and lifted the cover of the urn. He blinked.

“Ah – Professor?”�

Professor McGonagall fixed her beady eyes on him. “What is it, Potter?”�

“This is Floo powder, is it not?”�

“Of course it is, Mr. Potter.”�

“It’s … brown?”�

The corners of Professor McGonagall’s mouth twitched. “They’re doing it in different colours now, Mr. Potter, depending on the quality of the Floo powder manufactured. About time, too, what with all the complaints of too much ash or smoke from the users. That brown one is of a higher quality than normal.”�

Hermione couldn’t resist peering into the urn. “Looks like it too, Professor,”� she said, taking note of the finer texture of the powder. She turned to Harry. “You go first.”�

“Right.”� He took a handful of the powder and threw it into the fireplace. Hermione blinked in surprise at the eruption of light brown flames just as Harry shouted, “Godric’s Hollow!”� 

The fire continued dancing in that lively shade of brown. Hermione was mesmerized. It was like staring into the depths of hazel eyes. She smiled at the thought, took a handful of the powder herself, threw it into the fire and shouted.

“Godric’s Hollow!”�


	2. No Day But Today

**Disclaimer:** The author is not directly affiliated with J.K. Rowling or any of the publishers of the Harry Potter series. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Author’s Notes:** The chapters are quite long because I’ve been trying to be patient writing conversations between characters, so as to develop them further. I am hoping you won’t find it irksome. :) I know the story still seems murky, but it will make sense in the end, I promise. Thanks again to my beta, Bobbey, who is so good with details; I feel so lucky to have her work with me on this. :)

**Chapter Summary:** James searches his mind for memories of her, not knowing they lie in his heart. Hermione makes one seemingly harmless decision that could change her life forever, and Lily and Harry begin to wonder.

 

****

Chapter 2: No Day But Today

_There is no future._  
There is no past.  
Thank God this moment’s not the last.  
There’s only us, there’s only this  
Forget, regret  
Or life is yours to miss.  
No other path, no other way  
No day but today. 

_\--- Jonathan Larson (Another Day) ---_   


“James? Could you please bring out the salad and set it on the table?”�

The Minister of Magic ran a hand through his already messy hair and smiled cheekily at his reflection. “Where is it, honey?”� he called out.

“In our bedroom closet, maybe?”� Lily Potter replied, entering the dining room with a pot of roast in her hands. She watched her husband mess up his hair even more in the adjacent living room, hands on her hips. “James?”�

“Yes, I think I might have left it there,”� James said, finally turning around to face his wife and smiling mischievously. 

Lily shook her head and smiled good-naturedly. “Oh, you’re hopeless.”� She stepped closer to him and straightened out the collar of his blue polo. “What’s with the Muggle clothing? Last time you wore this, you were meeting my family for dinner.”�

“I thought it proper, dear. This time, we are meeting the woman our son thinks is the greatest woman in the world,”� James said. “After you, of course,”� he added, tweaking Lily’s nose. “Hermione is of Muggle parentage. I imagine it will be more comfortable for her if the men in this family dressed the way she’s used to.”�

“I see,”� Lily replied thoughtfully. “I’m surprised it still fits you though, after years of married life.”� She assumed a mock hurt expression. “Don’t I cook well enough for your liking?”�

James laughed heartily, scooping Lily in his arms and staring at her adoringly. “You are positively witchy in the kitchen, Lily. But I do like to stay in shape. You do agree that a bulging belly does not look respectable for a Minister of Magic, or even for a former champion Seeker?”� He paused, then added, “Sirius and Remus would never let me hear the end of it.”�

“Sirius and Remus are on the lookout for girls,”� Lily remarked. “I doubt they intend on settling down anytime soon, so they should look good. Hunky.”� She pressed her palms against his strong chest. “These muscles are not for anybody else, then?”�

James grew serious, knowing it was necessary to assure his wife that there was no woman in his life except her. Women loved to be told so every now and then. “There is only you for me, Lily.”� He wrapped his arms tightly around her waist and melded his mouth with hers. When the kiss ended and both of them were breathless, he whispered, “Did I kiss you like I was having, or ever had, second thoughts?”�

Lily smiled, happy and content. “No, James. But a woman can never be too sure.”� She drew in for another kiss. “Mmm. You’re stuck with me, James Potter, whether you like it or not.”�

“Believe me, Lily. I like it very much,”� James said, and then set about at great lengths to demonstrate how much he liked it.

* * * * * * *

Lost in their fiery embrace, James and Lily Potter didn’t hear the soft thump made by Harry stepping out of the fireplace and onto the carpet.

“Ugh,”� Harry said, breaking his parents’ moment and causing them to look at him. “It’s a good thing I came first instead of Hermione.”�

James laughed, straightening himself up from the couch. “Aren’t you glad to see your parents still in love with each other after all these years?”�

Harry grinned. “I am glad, and I know you’re still in love with each other, but I don’t really need to see it.”�

“Where is Hermione, son?”� Lily asked, refastening the silver barrette that James had unclamped minutes earlier.

“She’s coming, Mum. She’s probably still adjusting to that brown Floo powder Professor McGonagall let us use.”� Harry grinned once more at the thought.

“I almost forgot the salad!”� Lily exclaimed, standing up from the couch and throwing James a fond, reproachful look. “The two of you wait here for her while I go and finish getting dinner ready.”�

Harry watched as his mother walked out of the living room and into the kitchen. “Mum reminds me of Hermione,”� Harry said, once his mother was out of earshot.

James looked at his son curiously. “What do you mean?”�

Before Harry could answer, the fireplace emitted a burst of hazel flames, and a slender figure slowly stepped out of it. Her head was bowed, her curls covering her face as she brushed imaginary soot off her evening dress. When she looked up, it was eyes the colour of the fire she just stepped out from that she first sought out.

A slow smile spread over Hermione’s face as she took in James Potter’s strongly-cut facial features and the sculpted body the blue polo could not disguise.

“Mr. Potter,”� Hermione greeted, a breathless quality to her voice. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.”� She held out her hand, praying it wasn’t shaking too obviously.

James shook her hand firmly, then leaned in to give her a peck on the cheek. “Last time I saw you, you had bushy hair and two large front teeth!”� he said teasingly. He put both hands on her bare shoulders and held her at arms length. “Look at you, all grown up! Why–”�

Hermione lifted her head and locked eyes with him. Coffee and hazel, so that he was able to see her fully for the first time. She watched as a flash of pained recognition struck his irises like lightning.

James lifted his hands off her shoulders as though he had been burned and scrunched up his face. “Wow. You reminded me of someone,”� he said softly, uncertainly.

“Of whom?”� Hermione asked with bated breath. She had tuned out everything except him, of how time seemed to turn back and make him look younger. He looked familiar too, and she wasn’t too sure it was all due to Harry. The sensations that coursed through her, standing so close to him, were not new to her. It was as if she knew James Potter with her heart.

“Nobody.”� James squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head as though trying to rid himself of unpleasant memories. “Nobody I could remember, anyway.”� When he opened them again, it was Hermione Granger, his son’s girlfriend, who he was seeing. It was no longer her – whatever her name was.

Hermione continued staring at him, misplaced disappointment evident on her face.

“Uh – Dad? Hermione?”� Harry butted in, his voice edgy. He had sensed that something meaningful had passed between the two of them. He didn’t understand fully, but he definitely did not like it.

The two of them turned to him, identical expressions of surprise telling him they’d forgotten he was there. Harry felt the initial irritation he had mounting, however irrational. He walked over to Hermione’s side and wrapped an arm around her waist, as through trying to reclaim possession.

“Let’s go into the kitchen, shall we?”� Harry said, his face expressionless. “ _Mum_ –”� he emphasized subtly, “is waiting for us.”�

One of James’s eyebrows rose. _I know what you’re thinking, son, and you’re mistaken_. Harry wasn’t sure whether that meant the slight wariness in his voice amused his father – or stung him.

James shrugged his broad shoulders. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione shoot a furtive glance at him. He ignored it. “Fine,”� he said, jamming his hands in his pockets in an effort to regain self-control. He had to steer clear of her. He led the way towards the dining room, but he could still smell the vanilla scent she wore. It reminded him of everything lovely and melancholy at the same time. _Stop it._

Lily was just setting down the bowl of fruit punch when the three of them entered the room. Her expression brightened. “Ah!”� she exclaimed, rushing over to Hermione and kissing her on both cheeks. “What kept you?”�

Hermione tried very hard to look straight into Lily’s clear, honest green eyes. “Floo powder, Mrs. Potter.”� A weak smile curved her lips. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting.”�

Lily waved Hermione’s apology aside with a careless hand. “It’s no trouble at all.”� She beamed at all of them. “Why don’t we all sit down and dig into this feast?”�

The men pulled out chairs for the ladies before settling themselves. Hermione sat beside Harry and opposite Lily, who looked right at home beside James. 

_Everything is working out nicely_ , Harry thought, pleased at his parents’ reception of Hermione and forgetting what had happened earlier. His mother seemed especially fond of her, asking how her parents were, how the new technologies were affecting the Muggle world.

“So Muggles have developed a gigantic database of information and anyone can access it? What’s that called again – the Internet?”� Lily asked as she helped James to another serving of mashed potatoes.

Hermione nodded, tucking a lock of mahogany behind one ear. The movement drew a sharp look from James, who also looked away immediately. The gesture was eerily familiar. He racked his brains, straining to think of who she reminded him of.

“Fascinating. I hope I get to operate a computer one day,”� Lily was saying. She turned to her husband. “Don’t you think some of those machines could help the Ministry office?”�

James blinked. He had been watching Hermione rub her knuckles. _What was she nervous of?_ He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and answered vaguely, “Yes, maybe. Perhaps. I’ll have to ask other people in the office.”� He picked up his fork and started picking his way through his food.

Hermione felt a whirlwind of emotions twist her inside. Why did the way his fingers hold the fork stir her? _His hand is so graceful, so elegant,_ she thought, smiling a little at the thought of what else it could do. She lifted her eyes and once more took in the strong cut of his jaw, the almond-shaped hazel eyes framed by his glasses, and the gently sloping nose. She couldn’t help but shiver. _He is so handsome._

“Are you cold?”� Harry asked, his eyes filled with concern as he put his arm around her. Absentmindedly, Hermione tried to shrug it off. 

“No, not really,”� she mumbled. _As a matter of fact, I think I’m blushing._

James and Hermione were not the only ones doing their fair share of observing the air in the room. Lily, despite her cheerfulness, felt an uneasiness tugging at her heart. Hermione seemed familiar to her too, like someone she had known before. _But of course that’s impossible,_ she thought, smiling as she caught Harry giving Hermione a look of pure adoration.

“James, I insist,”� Lily said, ignoring the look of confusion James gave her. James had not been quite himself over dinner – she didn’t know why – but she had to force him to make an effort to make their guest feel welcome. “I’ve seen Vernon, my sister’s husband, working on it. They have it in Muggle offices. I think it’s quite a work of magic itself.”�

“I haven’t even seen one,”� James replied, staring at his food. He hated having to lift his head and see Hermione, because every glimpse of her made him feel like one more dagger was tearing open at his heart. And the crazy thing was that he couldn’t even understand why!

“I’ll get one in Muggle London this weekend,”� Lily said, sitting back in her chair as though that resolved the matter. “And then we’ll figure out how to work it.”� She put one finger to her lips, assuming a thoughtful expression. “Don’t you know, Arthur Weasley might be on to something. He’s always thinking about combining Muggle innovations and magic.”�

Both Harry and Hermione grinned at the memory of the Weasleys’ flying Ford Anglia. “Definitely, Mum,”� Harry agreed. “It’s like using two wands at the same time.”�

Lily fixed her eyes on Hermione. “I was wondering if you could help us use it, since I think you know more about it than anybody I know?”�

Hermione looked surprised at the request Lily sprang on her. James did too, judging by the sudden upward jerking of his head. Hermione did not have the heart to say no to Lily Potter. “Certainly, Mrs. Potter. I’ll help.”�

“Good, good.”� Lily clapped her hands together. “James, didn’t you say you need a secretary now that Kingsley Shacklebolt has been assigned to the Muggle Prime Minister’s office?”�

James’ eyes widened slightly. Even Harry suddenly tensed.

“Not really, honey, no,”� James replied hastily. “I sort paperwork by myself better than anybody.”�

“Yes, James, but that’s routine work. Things would be so much easier for you if you’ve got somebody doing those for you.”� Lily’s smile grew wider as she glanced at Hermione. “What do you think? Fancy moonlighting?”�

Colour rushed to Hermione’s cheeks. James did not miss that. 

“Mum, I don’t think that’s feasible,”� Harry interrupted. “Hermione is still in school, and she’ll need to study hard to get top grades, and she’s Head Girl on top of everything else.”�

Lily shook her head. “I think it will build up her discipline and time management skills even more,”� she replied. “So Hermione, what do you think?”� She let out a soft laugh and added, “You’ll get paid, of course.”�

James stared at Hermione, waiting for her to decide. Half of him wished she’d say no, so that he’d see less of her, and maybe he’d forget what it was about her that drew him. But half of him, the more irrational half of him, wanted her to say yes. He watched as Hermione’s eyebrows furrowed, knowing that the same dilemma was going through her mind right now. 

And then suddenly, her eyes met his. James was too startled by the intensity of her eyes to look away. And he knew, even before she said it.

Hermione noted how James’s eyes had not looked away. What she saw convinced her that what she was going to say was right, at least for her. 

“Definitely, Mrs. Potter. I’d love to do it,”� she answered slowly and deliberately, a peaceful smile stretching her lips. 

Her eyes were too busy drowning in the depths of James’ hazel ones that she didn’t notice that Harry had dropped her hand, or that he had been gripping it tightly in the first place.


	3. Light My Candle

**Disclaimer:** The author is not in any way affiliated with J.K. Rowling or any of the publishers of the Harry Potter series. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Author’s Notes:** This chapter’s part of the reason why the story is rated M. The title, by the way, comes from the movie musical Rent, which I have never really seen. But I heard the soundtrack, and it’s incredible! :) I hope this chapter does the title some justice. I also wanted to thank those who cared enough to read and leave me some reviews. You guys encourage me. :)

**Chapter Summary:** James and Hermione spend a little time together and end up firing off sparks.

 

****

Chapter 3: Light My Candle

_Little girl, hey, the door is that way._  
You better go, you know the fire’s out anyway.  
Take your powder, take your candle,  
Your sweet whisper I just can’t handle.  
Take your hair in the moonlight  
Your brown eyes, goodbye, goodnight!  
Long ago you might’ve lit up my heart  
But the fire’s gone, it ain’t ever gonna start!  
I should tell you, I should tell you  
I should tell you, I should – NO!  
Another time, another place  
Our temperatures would climb  
There’d be a long embrace.  
Looking for romance?  
Come back another day. 

_\--- Jonathan Larson (Another Day) ---_   


James Potter wearily set down the Daily Prophet he was trying to read and sipped his coffee. The morning sunshine streaming through the windows did nothing to freshen him up. He had spent the last couple of nights sleepless, pondering how to best handle the situation he had been compromised to. _Time alone with Hermione Granger?_ He rubbed his eyes. It should not matter this greatly to him, but for some unfathomable reason, it did. Again, the question echoed in his head. _Why?_ The most plausible answer always followed, but he rejected it each time, knowing it couldn’t – shouldn’t – be that way.

The knock on his door startled him. “Come in,”� he said in a strong voice.

It was like a mirage had stepped into the room. Hogwarts school uniforms were supposed to be flowing, supposed to conceal the shape of the body. Females as young as seventeen weren’t even supposed to possess full curves. So how in the world did Hermione manage to look like the very essence of womanhood? The wind blowing through the open door gently ruffled Hermione’s curls, making her look even more ethereal.

“You called, Mr. Potter?”� Hermione greeted mildly, a soft smile playing on her lips. “I have Transfiguration class in twenty minutes, and I cannot be late.”�

James stood and straightened himself up. Hermione eyed his strong stature with interest, noting that she had never seen anything quite as masculine as him. _What am I doing?_ she asked herself, swallowing hard in an effort to force away thoughts of him that were bordering on the indecent. She need not have to work very hard. When James settled a serious gaze on her, all her thoughts seemed to fly out of her mind.

“Do you have a lot of schoolwork to do this evening?”� James asked evenly, trying not to imagine what he normally meant whenever he asked a girl this question. “I was thinking we could – ah – start that crash course on computers.”� He indicated one that was sitting at the far corner of the room, the one that Lily bought over the weekend. James did not understand why his wife was being pushy about him learning to operate this Muggle machine. _She’s pushing me even closer to temptation._

Hermione looked a bit disconcerted. She glanced from the machine to him, feeling a little letdown at his nonchalance. She nodded slowly. “I always have a lot of schoolwork to do, Mr. Potter, but I’m sure I can make time to do what this temporary job requires me to. Especially since Mrs. Potter was the one who requested me to do so.”�

James wanted to smile, wanted to joke around and work the old James Potter charm of mischief on her. She was just a teenager, for goodness sake! Why was the air so tense? But he was scared that by smiling he would break the ice, and she would be comfortable with him. It might lead to things that he couldn’t control later on. And James Potter needed control, as he was a man. The problem was that looking at Hermione Granger reminded him that he was indeed a man.

So instead, he gave a brisk, upward jerk of the head. “I’ll meet you here around eight, after dinner.”�

Hermione forced a smile, wondering what made him act so business-like. She was not some ordinary employee; she was his son’s girlfriend. That made her almost part of his family. Heck, someday she might even really be family. _Some loyal girlfriend you are_ , her conscience snorted. She steeled herself to meet those cold eyes, eyes that didn’t seem to want to look at her. “Certainly, Mr. Potter.”� She gave a small bow and stiffly asked for permission to return to the Castle, with which James complied. 

The door closed, and James shivered at the sudden cold. She had noticed, he knew, that he was avoiding her. _Good._ But it was more difficult than he expected. _What did that mean?_

* * * * * * *

“Ron, I won’t be able to perform my Head Girl duties for tonight,”� Hermione informed the redhead as she gathered her things up from the common room table. Ron Weasley opened his mouth to protest, but Hermione shook her head warningly. “Don’t ask, Ron.”�

“Where are you going?”� Ron asked stubbornly. He glanced at Harry, who was sleeping near the fire, his glasses askew. “And does Harry know about this?”�

Hermione wiped her hand across her eyes in frustration. She was sleepy, having had trouble sleeping ever since the dinner at the Potters’, and she was tired and so full of dinner all she wanted to do was rest. She cast a look at Harry and envied him. “Of course, Ron, Harry knows about this.”� She stacked her Arithmancy book on top of everything else and decided not to answer Ron’s first question. “I have to go, or I’ll be late.”�

“How are you going to go there ... wherever you’re going?”� Ron persisted, ignoring the annoyed glance she threw his way. 

“I’ve fixed it with Professor McGonagall. And Ron,”� Hermione said exasperatedly, “will you please stop pestering me with your questions? I am not doing anything illegal.”�

Ron crossed his arms over his chest. “Fine. Don’t say I didn’t care enough to ask.”�

Hermione simply rolled her eyes and made her way through to her dormitory. Once in her room, she stacked her books on her table and rifled through her trunk for something suitable to wear. 

She recalled the closed expression on James Potter’s face earlier that day, and her own features tightened. Did he think she had no sense of propriety whatsoever, that she was intentionally putting the moves on him? Hermione’s cheeks burned. _Even if that was true, he shouldn’t think that._ She shut her eyes, and the image of James loomed, making her melt inside. _What must he be thinking about me?_

_Well_ , another voice inside her reasoned out, _whatever you’re thinking he’s thinking, it doesn’t matter, as you’re also thinking about him. That makes the two of you even._

_The two of us._ Hermione smiled and felt a shiver of anticipation at the kind of night she was going to have. Careful not to go overboard, however, she selected a pair of jeans that fit her snugly but were not too tight, topped with a loose, plain white shirt. She looked in the mirror and fluffed her hair. There was no need to put on make-up. Even with the lack of sleep, her complexion was glowing. Her lips were already red and slightly puckered. Her eyes were burning with excitement. The realization shocked her. She wanted to see James Potter.

She grabbed her purse by her bedside and rushed out the door, not wanting to look longer in the mirror. The longer she gazed into her eyes, the easier it would be for doubt and guilt to sink in. She did not want that, but Hermione knew that even if those negative emotions did manage to worm their way into her consciousness, they would be ignored. Tonight, nothing else would matter – except getting what she wanted.

* * * * * * *

“The first thing you need to do is make sure all the connections are in place,”� Hermione said, bending over to check the ports at the back of the CPU casing, as well as the plugs on the power source. “All good,”� Hermione affirmed, standing up and brushing dust off her hands. She glanced at James, who was obviously not listening and was staring off into space. She remembered Professor McGonagall saying that as the best and brightest students, the Marauders were easily bored with lessons.

“You’re not listening,”� she stated. James looked at her as though he didn’t know she was there in the first place. 

He ran a hand through his messy hair. “Obviously,”� he remarked dryly. “I still fail to grasp the significance of learning to use this weird-looking device.”�

“At least learn what it’s called.”�

James smirked. “I know what it’s called. It’s a computer. But I still don’t care what it’s capable of doing. Besides, the continually changing magnetic field due to the electricity needed to power that device affects the magical waves in this room.”�

Hermione was taken aback and tried hard not to smile. James Potter was even more charming when he was being his usual, arrogant self. And he definitely had the right to do so, seeing as he did know what he was saying. She opened her mouth to ask whether he still wanted to continue with their lesson, but he had already turned his back on her and settled on his puffed up chair. A wave of sympathy rolled over her as James removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, his shoulders hunched. Hermione decided to try a different tack.

“Long day?”� she asked, coming up behind him. James glanced up at her, and for the first time, Hermione noted how age had shaped his face. Lines had already collected at the corners of his eyes and mouth, making him look wise. Unfortunately, for Hermione, apparent wisdom in an older man was unbelievably sexy.

James relaxed on his seat and laid his head upon the headrest. “On the contrary, it was too short for me to do all that I have to do.”� He closed his tired eyes. “But maybe you don’t have any idea what I’m talking about.”�

“Maybe I do, on a smaller level, seeing as how I always have a lot of schoolwork to do,”� Hermione replied, placing her hands on his shoulders. The urge to comfort him, not as a child, not even as a friend, but as a woman, overwhelmed her. She felt the tenseness of his muscles and played her fingers over them, trying to unknot them. James settled himself back even more, as though to allow her easier access. A low moan of pleasure escaped him as he felt soothing hands slide down over his back and arms in slow, sensuous circles.

Desire coursed through Hermione as the intimacy of what they were doing hit her, at the realization that he enjoyed her touching him. She squeezed her eyes shut, and for a moment, imagined how she would feel if he wrapped his large arms around her. Oh, Merlin. She wanted him to hold her.

James suddenly bolted out of his chair and drew himself up to his full height, glaring at a very shocked Hermione. He replaced his glasses, the lenses magnifying the anger inside his eyes. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,”� he said warningly, passing his hand over the back of his neck, shoulders, and arms, as though to remove all traces of her touch. “Frankly, I expected better of you, Hermione.”�

She was still too stunned to react, so she simply stared at him, her lips slightly parted. James’s eyes were drawn to their unnatural redness, and yet they did not seem to be painted. He snapped his eyes away from those lips begging to be kissed, and worked on channelling his energy to anger. “I had hoped that it was only in my imagination that you were coming on to me that night _my son_ introduced you to us as _his girlfriend,_ but obviously I was wrong.”� His eyes narrowed even more dangerously. “What is it you’re trying to prove, Hermione? That you can bait both father and son?”�

Hermione’s eyes came into focus, dark and stormy. Finally, the issue was out. “I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Potter. If you’re hinting that I’m putting the moves on you, that I even am attracted to you–”� She let out a tinkering laugh and crossed her arms over her chest. “You’ve got an even more bloated ego than I thought. I did not suggest this computer tutorial. I did not even set the time and place for it. Who’s coming on to whom now?”� She tried her darnedest not to blush, knowing she was speaking in half-truths.

“Do you know, I think your body can answer your question,”� he answered, his voice coming out low and throaty, his eyes centred on her heaving chest. Hermione quickly uncrossed her arms and looked down at her shirt, blood rushing to her cheeks as she saw the evidence of arousal jutting out of her plain white shirt. She pulled at her shirt and looked back up at him, her face contorted with anger and humiliation.

“I never thought you were one to say such words, Minister, considering what a gentleman the whole world has taken you to be,”� Hermione gritted out, her face still flushed. She marched over to the chair where she had left her purse and slung it over one shoulder. She was making her way to the door when a large warm hand gripped her arm and forcibly turned her around so she was facing him again.

He was standing so close to her she could feel his uneven breathing on her cheek. She was sure he could even hear the hopeless fluttering of her heart. James shifted his hands so that he was gripping her shoulders and looked into her eyes. He read hurt, confusion, and unconsummated desire. _She is so young._

“Hermione, I’m sorry,”� he began softly. “It was improper of me to have said that.”�

“You shouldn’t even have thought that,”� Hermione retorted, twisting her body away from his. She watched as James’s expression hardened once more.

“Don’t act so innocent,”� he said, his temper flaring up again. “You’re not so young anymore that you cannot understand the attraction between a man and a woman.”� He subtly wrapped one arm around her waist and cupped her face with his other hand. “Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy what happened a while ago, or that you don’t want…”� He lowered his mouth until it was half an inch away from hers. “This,”� he finished with a murmur as he captured her mouth with a searing kiss.

Hermione closed her eyes and felt herself being swept away on a wave of emotion. He was right – it was what she wanted. She entwined her fingers around his neck and automatically pressed herself closer to him. Her lips had been driven apart by his so that she tasted him. Fireworks exploded in her mind like she had never experienced before. This was how any woman’s first kiss from a man was supposed to feel – and James Potter was such a man.

_But he’s not just any man._ The thought came unbidden to Hermione, the warmth she was feeling replaced by an icy guilt. She pushed him away, her hand snaking up and slapping him on the face. James pulled back with a stunned expression on his face, as though unable to believe what he’d done. Before he could say anything else, before he could pull her into his arms and make her feel like a woman again, she turned and ran towards the fireplace. She spotted the urn that contained the Floo powder, took a handful of it and threw it into the fireplace.

“Hogwarts!”�

James stood staring at the fireplace for several minutes after she was gone, distressed. He had kissed her not only because he desired her, which was wrong in itself, but because he wanted to see how it would make him feel. The emotions her kiss, her scent, her taste had evoked in him weren’t new – and that was what bothered him the most. He knew her, that much was certain, but he did not know from when and where.

_Who are you really, Hermione Granger?_

 

**Author’s Notes:** Thanks to my brilliant beta, Bobbey, who banished those errors away with just a few strokes of her keyboard. :)


	4. Angel Songs and Wild Imaginings

**Disclaimer:** The author is not in any way affiliated with J.K. Rowling or any of the publishers of the Harry Potter series. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Author’s Notes:** I’m sorry, but this isn’t the Time Travel chapter yet. Not yet. Haha. :) I’ve planned most of the story, and again I apologize if it takes some time for things to happen. You see, I do not believe in love stories that happen over a short span of time. I’m also a descriptive type of person, and I put a lot of emphasis on facial reactions and mannerisms, which is why the chapters are so long. But I hope, hope, hope you don’t find it boring. :) The title comes from the song “Love Story”� by Andy Williams, which is one of my favorite old songs. Thanks again to my beta, Bobbey, who takes time to leave substantive comments within the text. :)

**Chapter Summary:** Encounters with James make Hermione feel like she’s on a roller-coaster ride. How could she have thought of giving up what she has with Harry for a brief attraction with someone who could not possibly feel the same? But Hermione soon finds out that not everything can be measured by the rational mind.

 

****

Chapter 4: Angel Songs and Wild Imaginings

_Though I’m far away_  
I’ll whisper your name into the sky  
And I will wake up happy.  
I wonder why I feel so high  
Though I am not above the sorrow  
Heavy-hearted  
Till you call my name  
And it sounds like church bells. 

_\--- Sophie B. Hawkins (As I Lay Me Down) ---_   


“Where is she?”� Harry asked Ron as the two boys sat down for lunch at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall.

Ron gave his best friend a confused look. “Who, Hermione? I don’t know. She’s your girlfriend, remember?”�

Harry frowned. He had barely spent time alone with Hermione over the past few weeks, as she was either at the library or had turned in early in her dormitory. In either case her nose was always stuck in a book. “We don’t even have anything due for the next few days. I can’t see what she would be working on so hard.”�

“That’s Hermione for you,”� Ron crowed, clapping Harry on the back. “She’s probably making the most of the Hogwarts library before we graduate.”� He helped himself to the stuffed squid on the table.

The frown on Harry’s face did not ease up. “I think there’s something she’s not telling me,”� he remarked, slowly drawing out each word. “I even think she’s avoiding not just me, but all sorts of company. I wonder what happened.”�

“Yes well, she’s entitled to some time on her own,”� Ron interjected, taking a bite out of the chicken he was holding in one hand. “Like that night two weeks ago.”�

Harry cast a surprised look at Ron. “She went out on her own a couple of weeks ago?”�

“After dinner,”� Ron affirmed. “I asked her what she was up to, but she told me it was none of my business.”�

Harry already had his eyebrows raised, waiting for Ron to continue.

“She also said–”� Ron hesitated. “She said you already knew where she was going,”� he blurted out in a rush.

“She didn’t do Head Girl rounds?”�

Ron shook his head.

Harry’s green eyes narrowed suspiciously. It was so unlike Hermione to miss out on her duties. Unwittingly, his mind conjured up an image of Hermione and James – _his father_ – standing close together, like they did during that dinner. _Was it possible that she went to the Ministry?_ Harry pushed his plate away, suddenly feeling sick with mingled jealousy and disgust.

Ron gagged on his pumpkin juice. “Blimey, it’s Dad’s boss! The Minister of Magic!”�

Harry jerked his head up and looked in the direction Ron was goggling at. True enough, his father was striding down one of the aisles toward the High Table, where the professors sat. “It’s my dad, Ron,”� he said patiently. _What’s so exciting about that?_ he wanted to ask.

The redhead wasn’t listening. Harry looked around him and saw that boys and girls alike were staring at his father, their features alight with unmistakable admiration.

“Wow,”� Dean Thomas breathed nearby. “How cool is that, having a champion Seeker as a Minister?”�

Ginny Weasley, Ron’s younger sister, looked at Dean with distaste. “That’s not even his greatest achievement, you know,”� she said. “One of the top Aurors during his time, he was the one who finished Voldemort off.”�

Dean looked at her strangely. “Who cares about Voldemort? And what’s an Auror anyway?”�

“Dark wizard catcher,”� Ron choked out, still watching James Potter greet each of the professors already seated at the table.

Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown were pinching each other’s arms. “He is hot,”� Lavender gushed unabashedly, eyeing the Minister through hooded eyes. “How old is he again?”� Parvati asked in a very audible whisper.

The hushed murmurs continued until James Potter had sat down in what was usually Professor Remus Lupin’s chair, and died down only after it became apparent that the Minister had simply come to have lunch with the Hogwarts headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. Ron finally looked at Harry.

“That’s your dad, Harry.”�

“Yeah, I know. Thanks,”� Harry replied shortly.

“What is he doing here?”�

Harry shrugged nonchalantly, noticing how his father’s eyes were actively searching the students taking their lunch. He kept his head lowered to avoid meeting them, but he was willing to bet his next Quidditch match that it wasn’t him he was looking for anyway. “Beats me,”� he lied, finally taking a savage bite of lettuce.

* * * * * * *

_I kissed him. James Potter._

_No, it was actually he who kissed me first. And then I kissed him back. With abandon._

_We kissed, and it was earth-shattering. It was unlike any other kiss I could remember, maybe because it was forbidden, or because it wasn’t a simple meeting of the mouths. It was much, much more. It awakened something inside me that I’d somehow forgotten. It was a kiss as thrilling as fire must’ve been to ancient man, for it conveyed that much heat, that much promise._

Hermione did not want to continue writing about what happened next, so she put down her quill and closed her eyes. For the past two weeks she had done nothing but relive the kiss and the way it made her feel. She remembered running her palms up his hard chest and wrapping them around the base of his neck, his arms tightly encircling her waist, moulding her to him. It was a dream realised, passion personified.

She sighed, opening her eyes and glancing around the nearly deserted library. Her eyes fell on the clock at the far wall just as it chimed one o’clock. She had missed lunch for the third time that week, but recently she just wasn’t very hungry. It was as though thoughts of their moment together were enough to sustain her. She did not need anything else.

Her eyes widened at another realization about the time. As though jolted by electricity – _a changing magnetic field,_ she managed a smile at the words – she hastily packed her things up and dashed through the door. She ran through the hallways to her next lesson. _I can’t believe I lost track of the time, just daydreaming._

A few minutes later she was standing outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, trying to catch up with her breathing. She pushed the back door of the room open. “I’m sorry I’m late, Professor Lu–pin,”� she said, the last syllable dying on her lips as she locked eyes not with Remus Lupin’s kind blue ones, but with startling hazel eyes she had come to know so well.

The world around her stopped revolving as she stared at the man who had been occupying her fantasies of late, and as he stared at her with the same intensity he exhibited when he had held her. It seemed to go on forever, both of them oblivious to the darting glances the students threw from one to the other.

Finally, the left corner of his mouth curled upward in a smile. His eyes glittered amusedly – and dangerously, it seemed to Hermione. “You’re late, Miss Granger,”� he greeted. “However, seeing as I’m only filling in for Professor Lupin, I refuse to take any points from Gryffindor.”� His teeth flashed in a mischievous smile as he raked his hand carelessly through his hair. “Also, seeing as I once belonged to Gryffindor.”�

Dean and Seamus Finnigan stood up and clapped their hands, prompting the others to do the same. James Potter laughed, and then added, “Like protects like, of course. I don’t doubt that greasehead–”� Snorts and laughter erupted in the room. “Professor Snape, I mean, I doubt he avoids giving you a hard enough time.”�

Neville Longbottom was nodding vigorously. The clapping continued for a few more seconds, and then everybody who had stood up reclaimed their seats. James glanced at the young faces of his students in the room and was warmed by the respect mirrored in their eyes as they looked back at him. He turned his attention to Hermione once more, who had remained standing near the door. “You may take your seat now, Miss Granger.”�

Hermione made her way towards her seat beside Neville, behind the desk Ron and Harry shared. She was grateful for the support the chair gave her wobbling knees. Her hands were shaking as she took out her Defense Against the Dark Arts book, quill, bottle of ink, and a spare piece of parchment from her schoolbag and laid it out on her desk. When she looked up, she saw James looking at her. She quickly hung her head, afraid her eyes would show some feelings.

“Only wands should be out, Miss Granger,”� James said with a soft smile. He turned to face the rest of the class as Hermione forced her things noisily back into her bag.

Harry swivelled in his chair to face Hermione. “Where have you been?”� he hissed.

“Library,”� Hermione shot back defiantly, ignoring the warning glance James threw in their direction.

“Now, this course is called Defense Against the Dark Arts,”� James spoke seriously when he had everybody’s attention. “For most of your years in Hogwarts, you have been taught to combat the Dark Arts using defensive, protective curses. The intention of harming your opponent has not been hammered that deeply into your heads yet. Am I right?”� Nods answered his question.

James clenched his jaw. _Should I tell them?_ the thought sounded off in his mind. _No, better let Albus tell them, when the time is right,_ another voice piped in. James decided to obey the second voice. “Right,”� he continued, flexing his muscles as he played with his wand. “However, it has been said that the best defense is a strong offence. After all, you cannot hide and dodge from your opponent forever. You have to turn the tables on him, make him dodge you instead. But chances are, he will still attack you. The one who can best cast the Shield Charm is not likely the one to win, so why expend your energy in casting that charm when you can finish him off?”�

The Minister of Magic glanced around the room, noting how the students hung on his every word. “That being said, I will try to teach you simple to moderate hexes. We will start with the Reductor Curse.”� He paused. “Does anybody here know what it can do?”�

Nobody said a word. Having lived in peace for their whole lives, after the war against Voldemort was won, most of them did not bother with curses that could seriously harm, or even kill. They have heard of the Unforgivable Curses, certainly, but their usage were merely horrible tales from the past.

“Nobody knows what it is?”�

This time it was Ron who turned back to look at Hermione in surprise. “You don’t know what it is?”�

Hermione blinked, her eyes snapping into focus. She had been thinking how teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, even for a day, brought out the Auror long asleep in James Potter. “Of course I do,”� Hermione replied, with a nasty look at Ron.

James settled his eyes once more on her, his expression expectant. “Yes, Miss Granger?”�

“It blows your opponent into smithereens,”� Hermione answered matter-of-factly, ignoring the squeak of fright beside her. “You point it at the person or object you’re targeting, and with a flick of your wand, you say _Reducto_.”�

James smiled appreciatively. “Five points to Gryffindor,”� he said. He aimed his wand at the professor’s table so quickly that everybody missed it. Without a single word from James, the table exploded into a thousand pieces. Students screamed and used their arms to avoid being hit by the flying debris. When the dust had settled, and everybody’s arms were back on their desks, they all looked at the Minister with astonishment.

“That was fast,”� Seamus croaked. “I didn’t even see you aim.”� James nodded at him.

“And you didn’t even say anything! You can do magic without saying the incantations out loud!”� Ron exclaimed. James nodded again, a small smile on his face.

“Professor Lupin has told me some of you have become adept at nonverbal spells,”� he said, causing a look of concern to appear on the students’ faces. “But you don’t have to worry. Not yet, anyway.”� He waved his wand carelessly in the air and the dust and the many pieces scattered all came together once more to reform the table so seamlessly, it was as though it had never been broken.

“Each of you will now have a turn with the table. I have chosen a large object as a target because it will be easier to hit. Also, such inanimate objects are easier to repair, are they not?”� James face broke into a grin once more, and Hermione could not help but smile. “I don’t fancy trying to piece your intestines together, you know.”� He glanced at his son. “Why don’t you go first, Harry?”�

Harry stood up from his chair, and also flicked his wand too fast to be seen by his classmates. “ _Reducto!_ ”� he shouted as people around him crouched for cover. Bits of wood flew everywhere. His wand pointing at the same spot, he yelled “ _Reparo!_ ”� and restored the table to its original state. 

“Very good aim from afar, Harry,”� James said, beaming at him. He nodded encouragingly at the redhead beside his son. “Ron?”� 

Because Ron’s hand was shaking so horribly, he hit the chair instead of the table. James grinned at Ron’s horrified expression afterwards. “Good thing I wasn’t sitting there, huh? It’s okay, Ron. You just have to get the hang of it to know where to point your wand. And you have to be confident enough to know what you’re aiming at.”� He waved his wand once more to repair the table. His smile faded into a searching look as he watched Hermione get up from her chair. “Hermi–”�

The table was blasted into pieces before he could even finish saying her name. James glanced from where the table used to be standing, to her, the girl who was making his heart swell with admiration. Hermione was living up to everything that had been said about her. “That’s very good,”� James observed, looking straight into her almond-shaped coffee-coloured eyes. “You had me at unawares, like you should your enemy.”�

_Or like you had me._ Hermione smiled so that she glowed. She saw undisguised wonder in his eyes as he looked at her and felt a pleasant tingle from her toes up. _I’m sorry, Professor Lupin, but thank heavens it was the full moon last night._

* * * * * * *

“I was worried you’ve been living on paper for the past few days,”� Ron sniggered as he saw Hermione join him and Harry later that evening for dinner.

Hermione glanced at Ron – and to both boys’ surprise, she simply laughed. “I was busy working on something so that I had to sneak food into the library instead,”� she answered, her smile sunny. 

Harry’s mood lightened considerably at her smile, at the lighthearted air Hermione now seemed to carry about her. He sneaked an arm around his girlfriend’s waist and pulled her closer to him. “Does this mean I can finally have time alone with you?”� he whispered in her ear.

She had shuddered slightly at Harry’s touch, and at his voice in her ear, but hopefully he hadn’t noticed it. She turned to face him, trying to put some distance between her and Harry. Hermione knew she’d rather go straight to her dormitory after dinner and think about … him, but she also knew she couldn’t deny Harry his request, being his … Hermione repressed another shudder at the thought. Girlfriend. _How did this become so complicated?_

“We’ll see,”� she answered mysteriously, and with a smile to match. She shifted her seat away from him and showed more interest than she would usually have to the food on the table. After scooping some on her plate she threw a careless glance at the High Table – and upset her glass of juice.

Reflexively, Harry reached out and straightened the glass halfway before it spilled its contents. He laid a hand on Hermione’s arm. “Something wrong?”�

_Oh, yes._ Hermione had just spotted a beautiful redhead beside the bespectacled, black-haired man she had been seeking out. There was no doubt who she was.

“Hermione?”� Harry’s voice washed over her.

Hermione bent her head to hide the tears that were threatening to spill from her eyes. _Where did the tears come from?_ Her heart felt as though it were being squeezed so tightly that she could hardly breathe. In the midst of her giddiness over her earlier encounter with James Potter, she had forgotten the real bleakness of the situation she was in.

She reached for her cup of juice and gulped it down before answering. “An insect bit me. That’s all.”� She lifted her head once more to look at the High Table, just in time to see Lily Potter – Hermione swallowed a bitter lump in her throat as the last name she shared with him echoed in her mind – lean over to her husband, who was sitting beside her. She whispered something in James’s ear that made him laugh. Hermione could not tear her eyes away as she enviously watched Lily run her own hand through his hair, and as he pulled her swiftly to him for a brief kiss.

An icy knife sliced through her. _Enough._ Foolish though it was, she had obviously misinterpreted the affection, or whatever it was, she thought James felt for her. _Did I seriously expect him to have anything with me? I mean absolutely nothing to him._ Her mouth set in a grim line, she pushed her plate away and walked briskly out of the Great Hall, her robes billowing behind her.

Harry and Ron shared a concerned look, but before Ron could say anything, Harry jumped up and ran after Hermione. He leapt from one staircase to the next and ran along corridor after corridor until he saw Hermione sitting on the floor, back against the wall. Harry squinted and saw that the left turn at the end of the hallway led to the stone gargoyle that was the entrance to Dumbledore’s office.

He turned his eyes to Hermione, who had a defeated expression on her face that he could not comprehend. She glanced up at him as she would an intruder.

“You didn’t have to follow me.”� Her voice was dull, lifeless. She stood up and brushed dust off her hands and robes. “I’m okay now. I just needed time to think.”�

Harry stepped closer towards her. “About what?”� Ignoring her frown, he said, “Don’t tell me it’s nothing. I can tell when you’re lying.”�

“I didn’t say it was nothing,”� she replied in that cold voice. “I was going to say that it’s nothing important – for you, anyway.”�

“It’s not important to me? How could anything about you be nothing to me?”� Harry’s face contorted into hurt and disbelief. “How did this happen? Why are you suddenly pushing me out of your life? You used to share everything with me.”�

Hermione shook her head tiredly. “I never did, Harry. You just assumed that. And I didn’t say I want you out of my life. I just need some … space.”�

“Does this mean we’re breaking up?”� His jaw clenched in an effort to neutralize the pain the conversation was causing.

She closed her eyes and seemed to deflate right before him. Harry could not help himself; he reached out and wrapped her in his arms. Hermione clung to him and rested her cheek on his shoulder. She had missed him, the safety she felt with him.

Harry gently caressed her back. “It’s okay, Hermione. We’re going to sort things out. We’re going to be okay.”�

Hermione nodded mutely. How could she have ever thought of being with James Potter, who was not only married, but was her devoted boyfriend’s father and was so much older than she? It was insanity. She needed to get her mind back on track – fast. “I’m so sorry, Harry. I’ve been neglecting you lately. I – I don’t deserve you.”� Her voice broke.

Harry shushed her some more. “It was also my fault for not asking you sooner,”� he murmured. He pulled her a few inches away from him and tilted her chin up so he could look straight into her eyes. His thumb fanned over her cheek. “I love you so much, Hermione Granger. I don’t ever want to lose you.”�

Her lips trembled. “I love you too, Harry.”� She shivered – whether out of fear or anticipation, she wasn’t sure – when he pulled her closer to him and kissed her gently, but fully, on the lips. Her eyes stayed open as Harry increased the pressure of his kiss. It was a warm, pleasant feeling, having someone care for her as much as he did. But strangely, his kiss did nothing to her. It did not make her wrap her arms around him and press herself even closer to him. It did not set off fireworks in her mind. When Harry pulled away for breath, she did not feel the urge to kiss him again and again, like she did James in her fantasies.

_The problem is with me,_ Hermione thought as Harry backed her against the wall and leaned forward for another kiss. This time, she was ready. She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck as Harry tightened his hold on her and intensified the kiss. When she conditioned herself this way, she could almost share his passion. But she dared not open her mouth to speak as Harry’s lips left hers and trailed down the arc of her throat. She was afraid she’d whisper the wrong name, as the dim lighting turned his green eyes to a very convincing shade of hazel.

Footsteps and swishing robes echoed from the corridor Harry had come from, but each one of them was too engrossed with their own thoughts to notice the sounds. Then all fell silent, but the atmosphere changed with the undeniable presence of three more people.

Harry pulled himself abruptly away from Hermione and turned to look towards his right. He went red. Hermione followed his gaze to see the Headmaster, with James and Lily, striking a couple as ever, behind him. She rearranged her face to an expressionless feature as she looked evenly at them.

“Pro – Professor,”� Harry began, intending to apologize, but Dumbledore cut him off with a knowing smile.

“Just be careful next time, Harry.”�

“Erm – right.”� He glanced at his mum, who was smirking at him, the eyes he had inherited glimmering with mischief. His dad, on the other hand, was wearing that small smile he used when dealing with a variety of emotions all at once. Harry turned back to Hermione and took her hand in his. “We’ll just return to our common room then.”�

Hermione tossed James a defiant look just as she passed him. He averted his gaze to prevent himself from cursing out loud and clenched one fist. There was no way around it: he didn’t like seeing his son and Hermione together, and it wasn’t due to some noble reason. He wondered if his wife’s presence affected Hermione as much, and if she had turned to Harry to seek comfort. _But why should I care?_ He rumpled his hair in frustration and exhaled noisily.

“Hermione,”� he said sharply. _Damn._ He had never intended to let that slip.

She slowly turned back, her eyes protuberant with surprise, despair, tenderness, and a hint of hope. “James?”� she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

Shock registered on Harry and Lily’s faces at her intimate use of his first name. It also stirred the beginnings of insecurity inside their hearts.

James did not notice them, as they seemed to disappear so that he and Hermione were alone together. He felt like his heart would burst from its rapid beating. He smiled faintly to calm his racing heart. 

“We need to talk.”�


	5. Over the Moon

**Disclaimer:** The author is not in any way affiliated with J.K. Rowling or any of the publishers of the Harry Potter series. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Author’s Notes:** This chapter contains a lot of material I’ve taken from the books as well as common theories on the Horcruxes. Horcruxes, you might ask? :) The Wizard War is a central part of this story actually. You’ll see later on how and why. However, I prefer not to dwell on it too much, like how the Horcruxes were destroyed, because while the War is integral to the story, it is NOT the main point of the story. It simply serves as the backdrop for the story. :) Rated for suggestive scenes, by the way.

**Chapter Summary:** With Voldemort's second impending rise to power, the reformation of the Order is considered, and the hunt for Horcruxes is on. Even so, James and Hermione spend one last night together even while deciding to stay apart. Lily and Harry’s doubts grow, and Remus and Dumbledore discover something that gives them cause for alarm.

  
**Chapter 5: Over the Moon**

_Somewhere out there_  
Beneath the pale moonlight,  
Someone’s thinking of me  
And loving me tonight.  
Somewhere out there,  
Someone’s saying a prayer  
That we’ll find one another  
And meet somewhere out there.  
And even though I know  
How very far apart we are,  
It helps to think we might be wishing  
On that same bright star. 

_\--- James Horner (Somewhere Out There) ---_   


Hermione’s eyes widened even more.

“We need to talk,”� James repeated, more firmly this time.

The look on Harry’s face was stormy as he looked from his father to Hermione, both of whom were intently staring at each other, as though waiting for the other to make the next move. “About what?”� he demanded.

Lily bristled at her son’s tone. “Harry,”� she said warningly. 

“I was just asking,”� Harry answered defensively. _Aren’t you wondering why the two of them seem to be comfortable with each other, Mum? Too comfortable, perhaps, for our own good?_ he asked inside his head.

Lily was, actually. But she chose not to let it show, despite the doubts that were crowding her mind at the moment. Anybody with half a brain could see that something special existed between James and Hermione, with the way they were looking at each other right now. Lily also sensed that it was something complicated and full of conflict, but somehow, she just didn’t believe it was something romantic. She trusted James. He would never, ever cheat on her.

“Ask nicely then,”� Lily reprimanded Harry. “You’re talking to your father.”�

James wrapped an arm around his wife’s shoulders and squeezed her arm in reassurance. “It’s fine, Lil.”� He didn’t offer any explanation as to why he thought his son had been acting that way lately towards him. Bridging a discussion about it would be tantamount to admitting that such thoughts had entered his mind, and he did not want to think about those at the moment.

Harry was still looking suspiciously at him, so that James had no choice but to laugh to diffuse the tense air. He and Hermione had committed a major blunder he had to smooth over – quickly.

“Professor Lupin has asked me to discuss a few points of your essay with you. That’s all,”� James lied, speaking to Hermione.

Hermione seemed to snap out of a trance. Realization dawned on her face and her features brightened. “Oh, yes.”� James couldn’t tell if she was faking or not, if she even knew he was lying. He prayed she wouldn’t ask what essay he was talking about.

“Did Professor Lupin–?”�

“On second thought, I think it would be better if you discussed it with him when he’s feeling better,”� James interrupted mildly. 

Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but was silenced by the almost undetectable shaking of his head. “Oh, sure. Okay,”� she said, her voice tinged with disappointment.

Harry had had enough. “We’ll go then, Mum,”� he said, taking Hermione’s hand and starting to drag her away. “Dad,”� he added hesitantly, jerking his head in goodbye. 

James nodded graciously at his son, and then looked away so that he would miss the sight of them together, which still inexplicably annoyed him. After a few moments he turned to Dumbledore. “Shall we?”�

The Hogwarts headmaster nodded and began leading the way to his office. “Acid Pops,”� he said, tapping the stone gargoyle. The three of them watched it spring to life and step aside to reveal the stairs that led to his circular room.

Once inside, Dumbledore settled himself in his seat behind his table and gestured for the Potters to take their seats. He laced his fingers together in a characteristic manner and took a deep breath before speaking.

“James,”� he addressed the Minister. “You told me yesterday that rumours about Lord Voldemort’s existence have been active throughout the Ministry.”� James said nothing, waiting for the venerable old man to continue. “Likewise, I have received reports of a certain spiritual presence living in the Forbidden Forest.”�

“How?”� Lily asked.

“Hagrid has found several white unicorns dead in the forest, all of them with their blood drained. Aragog also, he said, spoke of a sinister shadow looming in the forest. It is very possible that all of them point to Voldemort’s survival even to this day.”�

Lily shuddered. “But I thought he was dead, when he tried to attack us seventeen years ago. I thought James killed him!”�

Something flashed in Dumbledore’s eyes. But then, James might have imagined it through the wizard’s half-moon spectacles. “I never really believed him to be dead,”� Dumbledore said softly. “I think I am close to figuring out why he didn’t die, why he cannot be killed just yet. I will tell you when the time is right.”�

“He cannot be killed?”� James repeated, stunned. “Professor, are you sure Voldemort is still alive, and that he is the one hiding in the forest?”�

Dumbledore nodded gravely. “James, I wish I didn’t have to say this, but I’m sure. I know.”� He paused a moment to recollect his thoughts, then said, “But you see, although Voldemort is alive still, he doesn’t have a body he can use just yet. The unicorns were killed because he needed blood to sustain the form which he is in at the moment.”�

“So near Hogwarts,”� Lily fretted, her face ashen. “Is he still … living up to the prophecy? He still wants to kill Harry?”�

Dumbledore closed his eyes and gave another nod. Lily put one hand to her mouth to stifle a gasp of fear. She turned to her husband. “Oh, James, we have to protect Harry,”� she pleaded with him, as though he possibly didn’t want to. “Harry is … Oh, Harry. He is seventeen, but he is still a child. He has not known much hardship in life.”� She covered her face in her hands.

James rubbed Lily’s back consolingly as he moved his chair closer to where she sat. “Lily, of course we’ll protect Harry. We’ll even teach him to protect himself.”� He smiled for a moment. “Not that he needs to. You remember that basilisk he battled in second year? He is naturally skilled in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Which he took after me, of course.”�

That coaxed a smile from Lily when she lifted her face. “You’re right, James. I was being silly. Harry has braved some dangers already. But I am just so scared.”� She turned back to the headmaster. “Professor, do you know of any method Voldemort might use to regenerate his body?”�

“I do.”� Dumbledore looked even more troubled now. “There is a very ancient magic he can evoke, but it requires the blood of his enemy.”� He fixed his gaze on James. “I think it’s your blood he’s after.”� 

Lily stifled another gasp. Fear was etched even more deeply into her face. “James…”�

“That’s not what you’re thinking,”� James told the headmaster, who nodded. “It’s my blood he needs, yes, but he’s going to take it from my son.”� His voice was shaking with anger. “That bastard. I’m going to kill him before he lays one finger on Harry.”�

Dumbledore shook his head. “James, James. Voldemort cannot be killed that easily, I told you.”� He considered the two of them and sighed. “I guess I really should tell you now. Have either of you heard about Horcruxes?”�

James shook his head while Lily answered, “I just know it’s one of the darkest forms of magic, Professor.”�

“Indeed it is,”� Dumbledore said as he stood up from his chair and paced the room, his hands in his pockets. “All these years that people describe as peaceful, but what I call the calm before the storm, I have done my best to know as much about Voldemort as I can in the hope that I could confirm or reject the hypothesis I’ve been working on.”�

“A Horcrux is an object charmed to conceal part of the soul of a person. While the divine form of the soul is intact, it may be split by the supreme act against nature – murder. Killing rips the soul apart, and the wizard may use this to his advantage by encasing the torn portion of his soul in an object.”�

Lily was horrified. “So this is why Voldemort cannot be killed?”� she breathed. “He has made himself Horcruxes? He killed so he cannot be killed?”�

James was almost afraid to ask the question. “How many?”�

“Six,”� Dumbledore said. James and Lily felt as though their own souls were torn apart. They had no idea that they had been battling a wizard powerful enough to triumph even over death. How were they supposed to win? How were they supposed to fight in the first place?

“You see then, I hope, that we must battle on a different front,”� Dumbledore said. “If we can destroy his Horcruxes, we can reduce Voldemort to a mortal man bereft of a soul, although with his magical abilities still intact.”�

“You make it sound so easy,”� James answered. “Do you know what objects he used as his Horcruxes? Do you know where he keeps them? I assume they are highly protected, wherever they are.”�

Dumbledore nodded again in agreement as he returned to his seat. “Right you are, James. But Harry, surprisingly, has already destroyed one.”� He smiled as he saw their jaws drop in shock. “Do you remember the diary that enchanted Ginny Weasley to open the Chamber of Secrets five years ago? That diary was not just Tom Riddle’s diary; Voldemort had made it his Horcrux.”� Dumbledore smiled thoughtfully. _In a way, Harry has already begun fulfilling his destiny._

Lily was beaming with pride as she sat up straighter in her chair.

“I have also destroyed his grandfather’s ornate ring, which is an heirloom passed on to the descendants of Salazar Slytherin himself. The cup, which once belonged to Helga Hufflepuff, is also no longer a Horcrux, “ Dumbledore continued.

James was shaking his head in awe and admiration. Dumbledore’s words made his heart brim with hope. “Headmaster, you are truly the greatest wizard in this world. I would have asked you to recount every detail of your story, but that would take too long, I imagine.”�

“It would indeed, and I wish to do it justice. Maybe someday, when the day that we can simply laugh at old sorrows comes.”� Dumbledore smiled at James.

“There are only three left then,”� Lily said, stating the obvious. She looked expectantly at Dumbledore. “Do you–?”�

Dumbledore’s blue eyes sparkled. “Yes I do, my dear. One is the necklace of Slytherin that bears his mark. The Mirror of Erised is another, as it was actually Rowena Ravenclaw’s.”� He smiled at the utter amazement mirrored on the couple’s faces. “The last one is Voldemort’s snake, Nagini.”�

“The Four Founders,”� James said with spite. “Well, almost anyway. He didn’t find anything of Gryffindor’s. But still, such historical objects make it more difficult for us to destroy them. But we will. We will,”� he said forcefully.

“I think I know where the necklace is,”� Dumbledore said. He looked at James. “You might want to ask Sirius for help. I believe the Blacks have kept it.”�

His hazel eyes widened. “Grimmauld Place.”�

“Exactly,”� Dumbledore affirmed. He turned to Lily next. “Lily, could I assign the mirror to you? I have examined it and have found that it cannot be destroyed by even the most difficult curses, probably due to the protective charms placed on it.”� He smiled at her. “Charms, of course, is your area of expertise.”�

Lily nodded briskly. “Definitely, Headmaster. I can do it.”�

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. “I cannot even describe to you the relief I feel having both of you on my side in this war.”� He sighed. “I hope we succeed in destroying at least the five inanimate Horcruxes before Voldemort has been truly resurrected. The snake – I doubt we’ll find it without finding him first, so that can wait. And then him, finally.”�

James pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Professor, are you planning to reform the Order? I have continued Auror training in the Ministry for the past ten years, so that we at least have a capable army this time around.”�

The headmaster nodded appreciatively. “Very good, James. But we’ll only summon them if, and when, the worst happens.”� He looked from one to another, leaned forward, and lowered his voice. “Work as quickly as you can, for time is pressing. Your tasks – keep them secret, and keep them safe.”�

James and Lily were both breathing in and out deeply, as though trying to lessen the impact of all that have been talked about tonight. “Yes, Headmaster,”� James said, while Lily simply nodded.

“That is all,”� Dumbledore said. To their ears, his words seemed to be the understatement of the century. “Have some rest now. Do you want to stay at Hogwarts tonight, Lily? James will be spending the night here, as Remus is still indisposed to do his lessons tomorrow.”�

Husband and wife glanced at each other. “That won’t be necessary, Professor,”� Lily answered. “I have matters to attend to at home before I turn in.”� She yawned behind one delicate hand. “May I use your Fire?”�

“Certainly, Lily.”�

James stood up and accompanied his wife to the fireplace. “Goodnight, sweetheart,”� he said, smiling his most charming smile. “Sweet dreams.”�

Lily regarded him for a moment and then smiled, although it did not quite reach her eyes. Earlier misgivings had resurfaced, but she was too tired to deal with them. “Goodnight, James.”�

He leaned towards her to kiss her and pull her to him, but she didn’t bother to return his embrace. She stepped away quickly and reached for the Floo powder. Without glancing back at James, she shouted, “Godric’s Hollow!”� and stepped into the fire. Lily needed warmth, badly. Her husband’s display of affection had left her cold.

* * * * * * *

Hermione felt a sharp pain stab her finger. She wriggled her wrist, pounded her arm on the bed and rolled over to the other side. She felt another stab. “Stop it,”� she said angrily, opening her eyes and sitting up in bed. Bleary-eyed, she looked around and tried to locate the source of her discomfort. She spotted a big, tawny owl sitting on her bed, holding a parchment and a package in his beak.

She glared at the owl. “What are you doing, bringing packages at this time of the night? I was sleeping!”� The owl dropped the parchment and parcel unto the bed and hooted softly, as though to remind Hermione that he was a nocturnal animal. He then flapped his wings and soared out of the window into the night. Hermione stood up, cursing, and went to pull the window down. She reminded herself to never again forget to shut the window before going to sleep.

She stepped back towards her bed cautiously, reaching for her wand to light the nearest torch. Who would send her anything at such a late hour? She sat down on the soft mattress and reached to unroll the parchment, which she thought was the safer thing to do first.

_Hi. Could you meet me at the Quidditch field right now? We really need to talk. Use the Invisibility Cloak. I’ll be waiting. –JP–_

_JP_. She shivered. _He wanted to see her._ Hermione felt a combination of warmth and apprehension overwhelm her as she tore the parcel open. “Wow,”� she murmured, running her fingers over the flimsy, translucent material the cloak was made of.

It was easy to make her mind up. She bent down, rummaged in her trunk for spare robes, and pulled them over her nightgown. She glanced once at the mirror to make sure she looked decent enough to face him, then efficiently rolled up the parchment and tucked it in one of her pockets.

Hermione draped the cloth over her whole body and walked to the dormitory door. She reached for the knob and looked around, hoping her roommates were all sound asleep. The knob creaked as it turned. Hermione squeezed herself through the small wedge of the open door and carefully closed it behind her. She took a deep breath and walked as fast as she could on tiptoes. The sooner she could get out of the castle, the better.

She was surprised to find the door of the castle slightly ajar when she reached it, and then remembered whom she was meeting. She smiled as she remembered the pranks the Marauders used to play when they were in Hogwarts. _Now where did that come from?_ she wondered. It wasn’t as if she knew any of the pranks they actually pulled back then, but a memory of Slytherins having their hair dyed green nagged her mind. _I heard it from Fred and George, most likely._ Ron’s older twin brothers worshipped the ground the Marauders walked on.

The cold wind whipped across her face as she stepped outside. Hermione made her way through the grounds to the ornate white gates that led to the field and pushed it open. A lone figure stood approximately ten feet away from the gate with his back to her. Hermione held her breath as she walked towards the figure, the springy grass silencing her footsteps.

When she had traversed half the original distance between the two of them, she stopped and took a moment to study him. His broad shoulders and the proud way he stood gave him a striking appearance even from behind. _This is it._ She took a deep breath to calm her nerves and pulled the cloak off her.

“James,”� she said simply, and then inwardly cringed at the seemingly inappropriate use of his first name.

He quickly whipped around and stretched his arms behind him, hiding his hands from her. At the sight of Hermione, his face broke into a big, sudden smile so that Hermione looked behind her to make sure it was really directed at her. He could not be _that_ happy to see her. James closed the remaining gap between them.

“You came,”� he said, his lips still curved upward.

“Yes, I–”�

“For you.”� James pulled his hands from his back and presented Hermione with a bouquet of white and red roses. Hermione blinked and looked up at him in surprise. “I picked them myself, didn’t conjure them out of midair.”� He gave her another smile.

_Please stop smiling,_ Hermione pleaded silently as she took the flowers from him. “Thank you. But what are these for?”�

“Oh, there’s no occasion,”� he answered carelessly. “It’s just that they’re beautiful, and – so are you.”� He was still smiling, but his eyes were anxious, watching how she would react.

And Hermione did not know what to do. A sense of déjÃ  vu was eating at her mind, but she was sure nothing of this sort had ever happened to her before. No man had ever been this sweet to her. Harry never gave her flowers on just any ordinary day. But the idea that something of this sort had happened before, only she couldn’t remember when and where, was not the only thought that was bothering her. James Potter, her boyfriend’s father, and married to Lily Evans … _Oh, Merlin. He’s taking it further._ Did she really want him to, or did she not? She knew she should not, but she found herself irresistibly attracted to him. It would have been so much easier if he just stayed away. But he was forcing her to face it like an adult – whatever it was that existed between them. 

Her silence troubled him. “Hermione?”� he said tentatively.

She smiled uncertainly at him, and the crease between his eyebrows disappeared. “I like them. Thank you.”� She paused, as though wondering where to start. “It’s kind of late, James – I’m sorry, may I call you James?”�

James laughed. “I actually like it when you call me James.”�

Hermione blushed, grateful for the cover the night offered, but feeling more at ease with his relaxed manner. “Yes, well. As I was saying, it’s kind of late, but you said we needed to talk? About what?”�

“You know exactly what we need to talk about.”� His features suddenly became more serious. “Would you mind if we take a walk while we’re talking?”�

“No, no.”� A walk was exactly what Hermione needed to keep her from staring at his face. She found more reasons to like him the longer she saw him.

They walked in silence for a few moments, Hermione marvelling at the fact that she was with the man that she had dreamt of loving day and night. _Stay cool, Hermione. Wait for him to talk first._ James soon broke the silence. “I couldn’t sleep. Did I wake you?”�

She smiled faintly. “Yes, but–”� 

“I’m sorry.”�

“I didn’t mind.”� 

James smiled. “Thank you for saying that.”� He paused as he thought about what he wanted to tell her. There was quite a lot, which was why he had requested to see her. He was hoping whatever she would say would shed some light on some of the things that have been troubling him lately. “Hermione, do you remember when I told you the night of that dinner–”� He grimaced because it was uncomfortable for him to remember Harry when he was with Hermione. “When I told you that you reminded me of someone?”�

Hermione nodded, wondering where this conversation was going to lead. “Yes, but that you couldn’t remember who that someone is.”�

“I still cannot. But somehow I know that whoever she is, she was somebody special to me. When I saw you that night, it was as though something long and deeply buried inside of me had awakened, as though I had finally found what I’ve lost, whatever it was.”� He pulled at his hair in frustration. “I know it doesn’t make sense, but it was like I’ve known you before. And I don’t understand why I’m feeling this way.”�

“Do you know, you just put into words what has been bothering me too,”� Hermione answered quietly. James looked at her with surprise. “But unlike you, I have been thinking about it since the first time I saw you, way back when I was in second year. When I learned you were Harry’s–”� She swallowed a lump of guilt. “When I learned you were his father, I thought that was just the reason why you looked familiar. Because he looked so much like you. But it was also during the night of that dinner that something in my heart told me my connection with you went deeper than that you’re Harry’s father.”� She gave a small laugh. “It really is strange, isn’t it? And like you, I don’t understand why. Or even how.”�

James pondered what she just said. “I was hoping you could give me some answers, but it seems like we’re both looking for them.”� The memory of kissing Hermione in his office filled his mind. “I know I’ve known you before, Hermione. I know that because when I kissed you, it was different from kissing any other woman…”� The words reminded him of Lily, but he drove her image away in his head. “It was different, but it wasn’t new.”�

Hermione felt a burning shame consume her when he brought up that incident in his office. Somehow, it was different when she was alone thinking about it. But if he could talk about it, then so could she. “I’m sorry I can’t help you understand why.”�

“Maybe you can.”� He stopped walking and turned to face her. “You see, during that time, the issue that you reminded me of someone I could not remember was not very important to me anymore. It was the fact that I found you very attractive, even when you did not remind me of her. Even when you’re Hermione Granger.”�

He reached out and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. His lips were curved in a sad smile. “I thought I still had control over what I feel when I rebuked you for coming too close. After all, I am not some silly little teenager who cannot control his desires. But when I gave in to the temptation that was you, when I kissed you, I finally lost the war I’ve been waging with myself. I feel something very strong for you, Hermione. I do not know if it is love. I am hoping it is not love, for everybody’s sake. Not when you and I have something going for us in our own lives. Not when it’s just so wrong, whichever way I choose to look at it.”�

Hermione was so taken aback with his candour, with the way his voice vibrated with emotion. She suddenly regretted calling him by his first name, as it set the tone for a more romantic nature between them. “Minister–”�

Pain flashed in James’s eyes. “Don’t remind me of that now, Hermione. Please.”�

“What do you want me to say?”� Hermione’s eyes were filled with mingled confusion and anguish as she looked at him. “One of us has to be reasonable about this.”� She felt she had to say as much, even when she really didn’t want to.

James could not believe what he was hearing. “We can deal with reason later. Tell me how you feel about what I just said, about me. Tell me you don’t feel the same way. Or better yet, tell me that you do.”�

Unspoken emotions raged between them before Hermione managed a wistful smile. “I have been fascinated with you ever since I’ve known you, as anybody who grew up on tales of you would have been. Champion Gryffindor Seeker. One of the Marauders. The hero who conquered the Dark Lord. Minister of Magic. You were _the_ James Potter, and I worshipped you.”�

Now that she had started, she could no longer hold herself back. She stepped closer to him and gently laid his palm on his face. “It didn’t hurt, of course, that I found you so good-looking even then. I thought to myself that if I was ever to marry a man, it would be you. Or someone like you.”� Her eyes dropped to the ground. “Sometimes I think I’m only with Harry because … because he is the closest I’ll ever get to having you.”�

James didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry at her words. He pulled her to him with no resistance from her and felt her rest her cheek on his left shoulder. He closed his eyes as he entwined his fingers in her thick brown curls and deeply inhaled the vanilla scent that was as seductive as she. A feeling so raw filled him, and he was shocked to realize that it was happiness.

“I don’t see why we should be talking about this, James,”� Hermione murmured, “when what we feel doesn’t matter.”�

“You’re right,”� James said, stroking the back of her neck. Somehow he couldn’t bring himself to care about what was right or wrong when he was holding her like this. “So what do you want to do?”�

Hermione tilted her face up to look at him and gave a small laugh. “I want to stay like this forever, James, just you and me. But life never asked me what I wanted.”� She gazed at him sadly. “You should’ve asked me instead what the right thing to do is. But I guess you did not because you already know what it is. We both know what it is.”�

“Knowing it, and even understanding why, doesn’t make it easier to do.”�

Hermione took a deep breath and steeled herself to say the words they were both dreading. “Our only option now is to not nurture what we have. It would be easier for both of us if we try to keep out of each other’s way.”� _But in the end, what was felt would be more real than what was chosen._ There was one question she wanted to ask him, but felt that it was too soon for her to do so, and that it was too presumptuous on her part.

“You mean because we really do not know what we feel for each other, if it really is worth fighting for.”� James had read her doubts perfectly. “Do you … love me, Hermione?”�

Hermione swallowed. She honestly did not know yet. “Maybe not enough, James, to risk everything by being with you.”� She looked at him squarely. “What about you? I doubt you would want to trade your family, and everything else, just for me.”� The look on James’s face was admission enough, and the truth cut her deeply.

James’s eyes were shadowed with defeat, but he knew Hermione was right. There was no other way. They had to give up what was between them while it was early, quit while they were ahead. James felt the strength draining from him, but there would be time to be miserable later. He attempted to make light of the situation. “You’re right. We should stop. So when do we start?”� he asked half-jokingly, with a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Right now, I guess,”� Hermione replied uncertainly. Somehow she felt reluctant to step back from his warmth, from his touch. 

He grinned as he read the internal struggle reflected in Hermione’s eyes. It made her look vulnerable, feminine. He glanced at the watch on his wrist. “It’s quarter to twelve on my time right now. What do you say we start at twelve-oh-one?”�

James was buying them time, but Hermione could not refuse it. Right or wrong, real or not, both of them could not deny that there was something special between them. “What are we going to do until then?”�

Hermione watched as James took out his wand from his pocket and pointed it at the stadium. Seconds later she saw a Firebolt speeding towards them, and ducked just as he caught it by its handle.

“I didn’t know you own a Firebolt,”� Hermione said, admiring what was undoubtedly the best broom in the world. Harry owned one too, and it had helped him win many Quidditch championships for Gryffindor.

“One of the little luxuries,”� James said. “I brought it because I wanted to take you flying.”�

Hermione smiled, feeling bathed in a warm glow. “You think of everything, don’t you? Like leaving the door of the castle unlocked.”�

“Of course.”� James flashed another smile, this time genuine. He wanted these last few minutes with her to be perfect. “I wanted to make tonight a night to remember.”� He angled the broom so that it was almost parallel and lay low to the ground. “So what about the broom ride?”�

Hermione removed her arms around him and looked warily at the broom. “I’ve never flown.”�

James tilted his head to one side and looked at her with surprise. “You’ve never flown?”� he echoed. _Didn’t Harry ever take her flying?_

“Except when you smile at me, of course,”� Hermione said shyly. “But on a broomstick, no, never.”�

He smiled at her, and true to her words, Hermione felt like she was on cloud nine. “I’m glad your first time’s with me. You will go with me, right?”�

Hermione nodded. “Yes, anywhere. Just say the word.”� She got on the broom before James, who positioned himself behind her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and kicked his feet off the ground. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and gripped the broom handle tightly as she felt her feet leave the ground.

“Just lean back against me, keep your grip on the handle, and open your eyes,”� James whispered in her ear. Hermione did as she was told. “Are you still scared?”�

Hermione shook her head, her hair brushing his face. “No, James. Not with you.”� And she wasn’t, really, not anymore, even when James accelerated and they began manoeuvring through the Quidditch hoops and reached the height of the Astronomy Tower. They were riding in silence, enjoying the wind whipping across their faces and the quiet sight of the world below.

“This is the best feeling in the world,”� James said a few minutes later. “Flying and being with you.”�

Hermione had to agree. Flying made her feel like she was on top of the world, that nothing could harm her. Not when she was up there, and certainly not with him holding her.

James checked his watch once more and saw that they had seven minutes to go before the hour struck twelve. He directed the Firebolt once more towards the Astronomy Tower and expertly landed on its rooftop. He assisted her as she got off the broomstick and left it lying on the floor. 

“Did you enjoy it?”� James asked her tenderly as he cupped her face and fanned his thumb over her right cheek.

Hermione nodded, too enamoured with him to speak. Her breath totally left her when he placed his mouth gently on hers. Kissing him as though it was her first kiss ever, or the last one she would ever be granted, she closed her eyes and recorded all the imprints being impressed on her senses: his smell that was so consummately male; the warmth of his skin against hers; the strength of his body as his arms tightly enclosed her waist; the rough ends of his longish hair that her fingertips glanced as they rested on his shoulders; his intoxicating taste as she opened herself to him. It was different from their first kiss – it wasn’t angry or spiteful, but honest and sweet, and bordered on reverence.

James lifted his mouth an inch from hers to look at her face, which was flushed with passion. Her eyes were closed, emphasizing her long thick lashes, and her head was thrown back – the portrait of submission. He knew it would be very easy to take her as his that very moment.

And then, as though aware of her loss, she opened her eyes and stared at him dazedly. “How much time do we have left?”� she murmured.

“Five more minutes, maybe.”� 

Hermione shifted her hand to his nape, stood on tiptoes and drew him in for another kiss. James sank his fingers into her hair and felt all reason leave him again. His body was developing a physical urge that could not be satiated by kisses alone, but no. _No._ He was not going to act on it.

His mouth left hers and skimmed all over her face. “We have to go inside now,”� he whispered. Her eyes fluttered open, and the sexiness of that gesture did not go unnoticed by James. His imagination went into overdrive as he pictured waking up to such a scene.

Without another word, they entered the castle and made their way back to the Gryffindor tower, hands clasped together. When they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, they stopped and turned to look at each other searchingly.

“This is it, then,”� Hermione said, “the end of our little rendezvous.”� She did not want to say goodbye just yet. “Goodnight, James.”� Her eyes misted and a smile flitted across her lips. _I will never forget this night, or you._ But such words were best left unsaid.

James was staring intensely at her, as though willing her to change her mind. After a few more moments, he sighed and conceded. “Goodnight.”� He sealed his words by brushing his lips against hers, and the passion between them flared up again, maybe even more strongly than before. He delved more deeply into her mouth with his tongue and felt his pulse quicken as she gasped catchy, breathy sounds in her throat. He wanted to go on kissing Hermione Granger forever.

His lips left hers and burnt a trail down her neck while his hands swept up and down her body, appreciating its curves. He groaned with pleasure and approval as Hermione grounded her hips against his and kneaded his back with her exploring hands.

A clock struck somewhere in the castle. It was time. James unwillingly disentangled himself from her. Hermione gave a tiny moan of protest at the sudden cold. Her knees trembled. James supported her at the waist until she was able to stand steadily on her own.

“ _Mimbulus mimbletonia_ ”�, James told the Fat Lady. The door swung open to admit them. Hermione bit her lower lip as though to relish the remnants of their kiss and looked at him, her brown eyes poignant with sadness and tenderness. “Goodnight.”�

He gave a small nod, throat too constricted to speak. He watched her enter the doorway and slowly close the door. It was some time before he realised that he was still staring at the wooden panels, wishing he could be on the other side with her.

* * * * * * *

“James?”� Remus Lupin called as he knocked on the door of his friend’s temporary quarters at Hogwarts. Nobody answered. _He must be asleep._ He knocked harder. “James?”� Remus tried the doorknob, and to his surprise, found it unlocked. Frowning, he turned the knob all the way and pushed the door open.

The room was dark. “ _Lumos,_ ”� he whispered with his wand aloft. Nobody was in sight, but the bed was made. Everything seemed to be in their proper places. Remus wondered where James had got to. _Probably went for a walk, or went home with Lily._

He quickly stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him. “ _Nox._ ”� The light at the tip of his wand went off. Remus retraced his steps back to his own room and took out the Marauder’s Map from the bottom drawer of his desk. He unrolled the parchment and laid it out on his table. He tapped it once with his wand and said, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”�

Remus scanned the map once it was completely formed. Everyone in the castle seemed to be in bed already – except him. He yawned, rubbed his eyes, and was preparing to return the map to its drawer when a pair of bubbles too close to each other for the names inside them to be readable caught his attention. _What would anybody be doing atop the Astronomy Tower?_

“What else indeed?”� Remus murmured to himself. The Astronomy Tower, dating back to his days at school, was the place for cosy Hogwarts couples. Curiosity getting the better of him, he leaned closer to the map and squinted at the letters.

_James Potter_ , he grinned as he read the name. Trust James to go wandering around at night. But who was he with? Why didn’t the name look like Lily’s? He couldn’t be with anybody but Lily. Remus concentrated on the squiggly shapes and suddenly felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. He jerked his head upwards in shock. _It couldn’t be._ His eyes were now wide with wariness and his mind was in a quandary. _Should Dumbledore know about this?_ Dumbledore was right all along, and he needed to know how this was developing. _The time is near._

And then just as suddenly, the need to report to Dumbledore what he had just discovered evaporated as he remembered everything his friend had gone through before now. Pity and happiness, shaded by his own jealousy, filled his heart as he came to his decision. _No. Not this time. I owe James that much and more._

* * * * * * *

Albus Dumbledore was on his nightly security rounds, sipping his hot chocolate, when muffled voices from the hallway near the door to the Gryffindor common room reached his ears. Craning his neck towards the source of the sounds, he detected both a man and a woman’s voices.

He inched towards the turn that led to that corridor and flattened himself against the wall, then slowly peered around the corner, wondering if he was going to have to tell off students who were out of bed, and which ones were they. _One of the Weasley twins, most likely._

The headmaster almost dropped his cup at the sight of the Minister of Magic and Hogwarts’ Head Girl in a heated embrace, both of them mindless with desire. He watched, riveted, as James groaned with gratification and Hermione pressed herself even closer to him. A grim mood gripped him. He swiftly turned his back on them and walked away, his brain sifting through all that he had seen tonight.

_Soon. Very soon._

It was what he feared.

 

**Author’s Notes:** I hope you didn’t notice the length of this chapter while reading it (aka I hope you weren’t bored), because it’s really long! Haha. I enjoyed writing about Hermione and James’s rendezvous. Please tell me if you think I should somewhat shorten the chapters. Remus and Dumbledore are going to play significant roles in the story, so even if it’s not that clear yet, it will be soon. :) Don’t forget to review, as it’s just a click away! :)

Special thanks once more to my beta, Bobbey, who does it like nobody else can. :)


	6. Le Grande Projet

**Disclaimer:** The author is not in any way affiliated with J.K. Rowling or any of the publishers of the Harry Potter series. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Author’s Notes:** Contrary to most time-travel fics that pair up Hermione with somebody else, Hermione in this story shows what she can and will do to get what she wants. Thus, instead of her being swept back through time against her will, Hermione this time deliberately devises a plan of turning back time to further her own interests. :) By the way, some of the spells or magical stuff here were self-invented. Hehe. The title is French, and means “The Grand Project”�. Thank you to all who have reviewed. You encourage me. :)

**Chapter Summary:** Hermione has discovered a way to be together with James. An assassination plot, however, threatens the success of the project even before it has started.

  
**Chapter 6: Le Grande Projet**

_Heart, don’t fail me now_  
Courage, don’t desert me  
Don’t turn back now that we’re here.  
Somewhere down this road  
I know someone’s waiting  
Years of dreams just can’t be wrong  
Arms will open wide  
I’ll feel safe and wanted  
Finally home where I belong.  
I will never be complete  
Until I find you.  
One step at a time  
One hope, then another  
Who knows where this road may go?  
Back to who I was  
On to find my future  
Things my heart still needs to know.  
Let this be a sign.  
Let this road be mine.  
Let it bring me to my past. 

_\--- Lynn Ahrens (Journey to the Past) ---_   


_It has been two weeks. Two very long weeks since I last saw him. Back then the fact that we agreed to put an end to this craziness didn’t seem so bad because he was with me, and also because somehow, I knew I would still see him around. I realise that wanting to see him means entertaining feelings I shouldn’t even have. But no matter how hard I try to convince myself not to, I miss him. I miss him terribly._

Hermione folded the parchment she had been writing on and inserted it into her Defense Against the Dark Arts book. She really needed to go to Hogsmeade and buy herself a journal so that she wouldn’t have to doodle on spare pieces of paper that could easily be misplaced. She then slowly pulled out that morning’s edition of the _Daily Prophet_ from under her book and placed it under her desk. She stared at the moving picture of James speaking on a podium, looking every bit the Minister of Magic with the determined expression on his face and his chin held high. She traced the contours of his jaw and found it cold on the paper, so unlike _that_ night.

“Five points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger, for finding the _Daily Prophet_ more interesting than the lesson,”� Remus said in an uncharacteristically harsh voice.

Hermione looked up to see the Professor standing over her, his blue eyes surprisingly icy cold. She hastily tucked the newspaper into her bag, embarrassed that she had made Professor Lupin lose his temper, as very few people did. She murmured an apology, her face downcast.

Remus strode back to the front of the room with an air of briskness that he seldom displayed. “As you should have noticed, we have been dealing with offensive, not defensive, curses over the past few weeks. You have even had the honour of having the Minister come to this class for a day.”� His eyes strayed briefly to Hermione at the mention of his fellow Marauder, but the girl was still looking at the floor. “Most of you are probably wondering why. Does anybody _know_ why?”�

Silence ensued as many students blinked and pretended to be lost in thought.

“Well, since Miss Granger seems to be keeping herself updated with what is going in the Wizarding world, perhaps she can tell us what these offense-oriented lessons are all about.”�

Harry frowned, wondering what had gotten into the usually mild-mannered and soft-spoken professor to make him act like this. Why was he giving Hermione a hard time with the newspaper? He glanced backwards to where Hermione was seated, staring at Professor Lupin with what seemed like suspicion and annoyance.

“It has been reported that Lord Voldemort, the most evil wizard in this century, who was believed to have been defeated seventeen years ago, might actually–”�

“Who is credited for defeating Voldemort?”� Remus interrupted, his eyes intently watching Hermione’s reaction.

_He knows something,_ Hermione thought, feeling angry and close to panic at the same time. She was about to start wondering how when it hit her. _Damn. The Marauder’s Map._ Professor Lupin had confiscated it from Harry years ago. Her eyes flashing, she gazed steadily at her Professor and nonchalantly answered, “James Potter. The current Minister of Magic.”� Her insides softened at the mere mention of his name, but she ignored it. “As I was saying, the Minister has released a statement that Voldemort might not really have been dead all these years. He suspects that Voldemort is just biding time to allow his followers, called the Death Eaters, to regroup. It is for this reason that extensive protective and precautionary measures have been recommended by the Ministry.”�

Harry expected Professor Lupin to credit Gryffindor at least five points for Hermione’s answer, but he did not. Instead, he merely nodded. “It is important then that you are always on your guard and that you possess the skills necessary to protect yourself. You are not children anymore. In a few months you will be leaving Hogwarts, and it is likely that you will be caught up in the darkness brewing at the moment.”�

“Many of you here do not know anything of the First War except that it happened, if at all. Some, however, have experienced firsthand the atrocities of the war. It does not matter, as long as we do not forget. It will be the greatest sacrilege if we ever do.”� Remus examined his class, most of whose faces were expressionless. He smiled slightly.

“I see it does not have much of an impact on you. Let us all hope that the day when you have to choose sides in a war and fight doesn’t come. Nevertheless, you still have to train.”�

The class sighed and pulled out their quills, parchments and wands.

Remus shook his head. “I’m letting you out of class early today so you can go to the library and get started on the assignment I’m going to give you. You have to submit an essay on dangerous magical objects – choose only one – and how you create and destroy them. Five feet of parchment, due next week. Do you have any questions?”�

Ron’s forehead wrinkled in confusion, but his wasn’t the only one. “Isn’t that more of a Charms assignment?”� Murmurs of assent followed.

“Yes, it is. However, you should be capable of integrating the knowledge you’ve acquired from the various branches of magic by now.”� His students nodded, indicating that they understood. Remus smiled. “Class is dismissed. You may go.”�

The Gryffindors filed out of the room, most of whom made their way back to the common room. Straying from the crowd, Hermione turned right and headed straight for the library. Ron and Harry jogged to catch up with her.

“You’re going to the library? At once?”� Ron asked with a grimace.

Hermione shifted her bag from one shoulder to another. “I don’t have anything else to do,”� she answered, her eyes on the floor.

“How about spending time with me down by the lake?”� Harry replied, smiling amusedly at her. “We haven’t been together for ages.”�

“Maybe later, Harry.”� The more she saw Harry, the more she thought of James, and the more she wanted to be with him.

“But you’re not going to leave the library until much later,”� Harry said accusingly.

Hermione sighed. “Yes, Harry. I know, and I’m sorry, but I really need to get started on this essay.”� With that she turned her back to them, pushed open the glass doors of the library and entered.

The two boys stared helplessly at each other. “Do you get the feeling there’s something she’s not telling us?”� the redhead asked.

The troubled look on Harry’s face said it all. “I don’t know, Ron. I don’t know anything anymore.”�

* * * * * * *

Hermione let out a shaky breath as she placed her things down on a table. She was so relieved to finally be away from everyone. She needed some time and quiet, not so she could think about James, but so she could catch up with the work she had been ignoring for days. Unbeknownst to Ron and Harry, she had now failed to complete her previous Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts essays. That was not how she worked. Missing another essay would definitely spell detention, and Hermione Granger never got detention. Her features hardened with determination as she made her way to the shelves of books.

Minutes later, she had succeeded in locating the area of books that looked promising for her Defense Against the Dark Arts assignment. Ron was correct; the books were indeed within the section in the library dedicated to Charms. Hermione fingered the spine of _Highly Dangerous Magical Objects_ , pulled it out, and returned to her table.

As Hermione flipped through the pages, it quickly became clear to her that _dangerous_ had another meaning that was usually lost on people. There were some things that anybody would call dangerous. There was what was called the Veil, the other side of which was said to belong to another dimension so that those who fell behind it were gone forever. There were cursed necklaces, books, and dolls – but then again, anything and everything could be cursed. _All things are potentially dangerous, even Portkeys,_ Hermione reflected as she turned to the next page, _especially when used improperly or handled unsuspectingly._

Her breath caught in her throat when she saw the heading on another page. _The Time-Turner._ She remembered the one she had used back in her third year in order to fit in one day all the subjects she wanted to take. How intrigued she was by it then. Would she finally find out how it was constructed?

_“Comprised of a miniature hourglass of the finest glass, with a sandy charmed potion inside it and hanging from a chain of near-pure gold, the Time-Turner is capable of bringing its bearer back up to twenty-four hours at a time, depending on the number of backward turns of the hourglass. The Ministries of Magic possess such resources, but issue permits for its use only on a case-to-case basis. Severe restrictions are implemented for very obvious reasons. Travelling to the past entails changing the present, and not all changes may be desirable.”�_

The report continued with detailed accounts of people who have successfully used the Time-Turner, as well as those who have died due to what an expert described as the mental instability resulting from seeing one’s self outside of one’s body. Hermione could not help but snort. These people who ended up killing their past of future selves were obviously daft. Surely, they had expected meeting their very own selves before they even embarked on such a journey? Hermione snorted again. _Idiots_.

An image of James Potter floated into her mind, and she sighed. Ever since the night of their illicit rendezvous, her sleep had been permeated by dreams of the two of them together. She had expected that, certainly, except that in her dreams she was with a seventeen-year-old James. Her dreams were so vivid she was almost convinced that they were real, that they were memories. But then she’d wake up in the morning with the truth hitting her hard each time – that she never really had a chance with James. Time, and that thing they called fate, had made sure of that. Hermione had never even thought of challenging either of them.

Until now. The reminder that a Time-Turner existed had opened up all sorts of possibilities for her. There were two problems, however. One, she did not know how she was going to secure one for her personal use. Two, even if she did manage to get one, a Time-Turner only went back as far as twenty-four hours. What good is one day, one week, one month even, when she wanted to turn back years?

_First things first._ Hermione sat up straighter in her chair. _I need to get a Time-Turner for myself. But how?_ Her mind worked its way down the possible solutions: convince Professor McGonagall to get one for her again by saying it was for purely academic purposes only, steal one from the Ministry, and check the market for any possible Time-Turners for sale. Hermione wrinkled her nose. None of the above options appealed to her senses, or even seemed plausible. Procuring a Time-Turner was not her only goal – maintaining secrecy also was. From experience, that meant working alone.

“I can make one.”� The words were out of her mouth before she realised what she was saying. A slow smile spread over her suddenly bright face. “I can make one,”� she repeated, the words sounding good even to her ears. “I’m smart enough. I’m sure I can figure this one out.”� Feeling invigorated, she reread the text more intently in the hope of finding more explicit instructions on how to devise a Time-Turner, but ended up frowning.

“The chain, the hourglass, the potion,”� Hermione murmured. “Near-pure gold, that’s easy. Expensive, yes, but easy. Finest glass, that’s expensive and yet easy, too. The potion…”� Her voice trailed off. “The potion, ultimately, is what is responsible for turning back time.”�

Hermione read the text for the third time. Unfortunately, it did not provide any more information on the potion – not even its name – except that it was of a sandy texture and that it was charmed. The picture of an old, thick black book swam hazily in Hermione’s eyes. _Moste Potente Potions. Of course._ Hermione was very aware of the fact that the book was in the Restricted Section of the library, and that she needed a signed permit from a teacher before she could access it. But getting to the book paled in comparison to all the other obstacles Hermione knew she would face before accomplishing the grand project. 

_Le Grande Projet._ Hermione smiled smugly as she stood up, taking the book explaining Time-Turners to Madam Pince to check out. She had finally found a way to be with James Potter.

* * * * * * *

Remus was busy rifling through his desk drawers in search of his favourite quill when he saw a white envelope stuck between the slightly open edges of two wooden panels. Frowning, he tugged at it until it was free of its confinement. He blew the dust that had gathered on the outside, flicked the flap open and tapped it upside-down over his table.

The sound of metal clanking on glass caused recognition to dawn on his face. He gingerly picked up the necklace that had fallen, running his fingers down the cold, shiny silver chain that supported a silver moon pendant. He had forgotten about having that necklace in his possession. Memories flooded his mind, but before they could take control, he had already slid the necklace back into its envelope and had shoved it angrily in the drawer containing the Marauder’s Map.

A knock on the door forced him to calm down. Remus sat in his chair, picked a quill from his desk and pretended to write. “Come in,”� he called out.

His temper rose when he saw Hermione, but he immediately quelled it. Hermione stepped inside his office and closed the door quickly behind her.

“Yes? What can I do for you, Hermione?”� he asked curtly.

_At least he’s not calling me ‘Miss Granger’, like he does when he’s angry._ Hermione took a deep breath. “Professor, about our assignment – I was, well, I stumbled upon something that I thought needed additional research, and I needed an extra book so that I can look it up.”� She needed to get a grip on herself; she was babbling incoherently. “But sir, the book is in the Restricted Section, and I need your permission, and–”�

“Which book is it?”� Remus interrupted.

“ _Moste Potente Potions,_ ”� Hermione answered, more calmly this time, taking enough care to look straight into her teacher’s eyes, as though the gesture might convince him of her honesty.

Remus stared at Hermione for a very long time before answering. “You disappoint me, Miss Granger. I know a liar when I see one, even when she lies as beautifully as you do.”�

Hermione flushed against her will. “Professor, I am not lying. I really do need that book for your essay.”� She really might, if she decided to write her essay on how dangerous Time-Turners could be – only she needed to test it out on herself first.

“No, you do not,”� Remus countered, still piercing her with his blue eyes. “You need it for something else, and though I do not know what it is for, I know it is not for the assignment I’ve given you.”� He pondered her for another moment, his mouth set in a grim line. “You may try asking your other teachers if they will give you a permit, but I believe you will need to think up a better excuse than the one you have given me today in order to convince them.”�

Hermione hung her head so he wouldn’t see the fury reflected in her eyes, but she did not doubt he sensed it anyway. “Thank you for your time, Professor. I am very sorry I disturbed you,”� she answered stiffly. She turned her back to him and reached out for the doorknob.

“One more piece of advice, Miss Granger.”�

_What now? Is he going to berate me about James?_ Hermione looked back at him, her expression defiant. “Yes, Professor?”�

“I don’t see any need for a strong love potion because he seems to be very taken with you already, doesn’t he? But be careful, Miss Granger. Be very careful if you don’t want to get hurt.”�

Hermione had heard enough. She left the room and slammed the door angrily behind her.

* * * * * * *

It was nearing midnight, but Hermione still lay tossing in her bed. Her mind kept replaying the disastrous incident in Professor Lupin’s office. It bothered her that he seemed to know more than he should, and that he obviously didn’t like what he knew, but that was not the only thing that was keeping her up. If she could not get the book through legal means, and it was becoming clear that she really could not, then she would have to sneak it out. She had made up her mind that she would do so tonight, before she lost her nerve. When all she could hear were snores, she jumped quietly out of bed and lit the tip of her wand wordlessly with a spell. She then rummaged in her trunk for the Invisibility Cloak James had lent her, draped it over her body, and softly made her way out of Gryffindor tower.

She treaded carefully down the corridors to the library, fervently praying she would not be meeting anybody tonight, most especially the Hogwarts caretaker. When she reached the glass doors, she pushed at them and discovered they were locked. Hermione picked her wand from her pocket. She tapped at the brass handles and said, “ _Alohomora!_ ”�

To her surprise the doors opened at once with that single spell. _Talk about security._ Hermione was correct in assuming that the library was not that strictly protected, for who would want to steal books anyway when the average student detested them? She walked towards the Restriction Section, still making as little noise as possible. She passed the tip of her wand along the spines of the shelved books until she found what she was looking for. Shivering slightly from both the cold and from the knowledge that she had succeeded, she fumbled in pulling the book out and almost dropped it because of its immense weight. Hermione held the book to her body with one arm, ensuring that the cloak also covered it well.

A soft mewing at her heels alerted her that Filch’s cat, Mrs. Norris, was still up prowling the school. It meant that Filch was still around. Hermione quickened her pace until she reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, who was sleeping. She pulled the cloak off her and rapped on the door.

The Fat Lady stirred, but slept on. Hermione knocked harder. The Fat Lady opened one bleary eye. “What time of the night do you call this?”� she asked irritably.

“ _Mimbulus mimbletonia,_ ”� Hermione said firmly, not wanting to argue with the portrait. The Fat Lady seemed to have been too sleepy to put up any further challenge and instead swung open to admit her. Hermione raced up the stairs back to her dormitory. She jumped into her bed and under the covers, lit her wand, and rifled feverishly through the pages.

“There’s got to be ten thousand pages in this book,”� Hermione muttered as she flipped from one page to the next in search of that potion she needed. “There has to be a more efficient way of doing this.”�

A spell from one of the German books she read came back to her mind. Hermione closed the book and tapped it with her wand. “ _Suchen Time-Turner,_ ”� she whispered. She watched in amazement as the pages were flicked from the front cover to the back as though by an invisible finger. When the last page of the book was turned and the back cover had shut the book closed, it fell silent, seemingly no different than before, except for a faint glow emitted by the edge of one page somewhere in the middle. 

Hermione held her breath. Was it really going to be that easy to find the potion she needed? She carefully opened the book to that glowing page and quickly scanned its contents. _Main component of the Time-Turner._ Excitement shot through her as she returned to the top of the page and started reading more thoroughly. Her eyes travelled down the list of ingredients, most of which were available either in her potions kit or in any apothecary. She reviewed the list, and her eyes were drawn to one element of the potion. _Fine ferromagnetic particles._

_It seems like the potion is more of a mixture than a solution,_ Hermione contemplated as she pondered the rationale behind the use of magnetic particles. She was recalling everything she had ever learned in Astronomy, but her drooping eyelids wouldn’t cooperate. She waved her wand over the page entitled _Solucion Contra la Fuerza de Gravedad_ and waved it again over a blank parchment, enabling her to copy the page word for word. Hermione rolled up the parchment and hid it in her trunk. Sighing sleepily, she slid out of bed, covered herself with the Invisibility Cloak once more, and retraced her steps to the library. She needed to return the book at once before anybody realised that it was missing.

It was almost one in the morning when Hermione had curled up in her bed, exhausted but pleased with the day’s work. She couldn’t wait to fall asleep, not only because she knew she would be with James in her sleep, but because she knew that the following sunrise would give her the opportunity to make her dreams come true.

* * * * * * *

“James?”�

The Minister of Magic looked up from his paperwork to see the grinning face of his best friend, Sirius Black, peeking through the door of his office. His own face brightened. “Padfoot! Come in.”� James embraced Sirius and clapped him once on the back, and then pulled away. “How thoughtful of you to have dropped in.”�

Sirius smirked at him. “Oh, Prongsie, you know how I missed you,”� he said in a mock sweet voice, a mischievous twinkle in his grey eyes. He leaned forward and jokingly attempted to kiss him. James burst out laughing and pushed him away.

“So what brings you here?”� James asked as he returned to his seat and gestured at Sirius to do the same. “Is it good news or bad news?”�

“Neither,”� Sirius answered as he propped his long legs on the chair opposite him. “Hogsmeade weekend is on Saturday, before the Halloween feast, and I thought we should start stationing some Aurors in the village.”� Sirius Black was Head of Auror Division. “What do you think?”�

James’s heart started beating a little faster at the mention of Hogwarts students, but he chose to ignore it. “I guess there’s nothing wrong with employing preemptive measures.”�

Sirius grinned once more. “I knew you’d agree,”� he said. “I’m going to Hogsmeade now. Do you want to come with me? You look like you could use a good time.”�

“I do?”� James passed a hand self-consciously over his face.

Sirius laughed. “Yes, you do. Leave this hole for a while. We’ll stop by the Three Broomsticks, and I’ll teach you how to have a good time.”�

James smiled wryly. “Let’s skip the booze, Sirius. But I sure would love to do something else besides sitting here. Thanks for wanting some company.”� 

“What are best friends for?”� Sirius shrugged. “I’ll be sending out orders in five minutes. I’ll meet you at the Broomsticks in half an hour or so.”�

* * * * * * *

Hermione had woken up that same morning with a smile on her face. Even with only six hours of sleep, she felt refreshed and inexplicably happy. She had packed the copy of _Solucion Contra la Fuerza de Gravedad_ in her bag, as well as three pouches of money that amounted to almost three hundred Galleons, before going to her first lesson. The money came from the extra her parents had been sending her every Christmas, birthday, and whenever they were feeling generous. She had kept the money with her at Hogwarts instead of at Gringotts, well-protected in her own charmed vault, so that she could easily access it anytime. Hermione had taken out some of that money in the hope that she would be able to sneak into Hogsmeade during her two-hour break after lunch to buy the glass, chain, and potion ingredients.

She left the Great Hall after a hurried lunch, much to Harry and Ron’s protests. Making her way to the third floor, she cautiously approached the statue of a hump-backed, one-eyed witch that stood halfway along one corridor. She tapped the witch lightly with her wand, muttered “ _Dissendium!_ ”�, and watched as the hump opened up to reveal the secret passageway to Honeydukes. She had often used this route with Ron and Harry in the past. Hermione carefully climbed in and closed the hump behind her. She lit the tip of her wand and crawled down the dark tunnel for what seemed like an hour until she felt the passage rise up. She came to the foot of the worn stone steps and began to climb up the stairs, using her palms to feel the way ahead of her. When her hands encountered the trapdoor, she pushed it open and climbed out into the cellar of Honeydukes.

Hermione made her way to the top floor of the store and stealthily snuck out, thankful for the customers that surrounded the counter and obscured her from view. She breathed a sigh of relief once she was out in the sunshine, strolling along the streets of Hogsmeade. Hermione pushed open the doors of the glass blowing store, the twinkling chimes announcing her arrival.

“Good afternoon, Miss,”� the proprietor, a middle-aged man with a balding head and a bushy moustache, greeted her.

“Good afternoon,”� Hermione answered with a smile. She looked around the store, taking note of the glass sculptures that surrounded her. “You make all these wonderful pieces of art?”�

The man bowed. “Certainly, Miss. My employees and I are very skilled in glass carving. Perhaps you should look around to see if there’s anything you fancy? Or do you require something a little more personal?”�

“Something a little more personal, I think,”� Hermione replied with another sweet smile. “I was wondering if you could make me a miniature hourglass?”�

His eyes widened slightly, but he recovered fast. “About how long, Miss? Would an inch do?”�

Hermione nodded smartly. “You must use the finest glass in creating that hourglass, no matter how expensive it is. I don’t care about the price or anything at all, except that you have to do it right.”� She flashed another charming smile. “I’ll pay you extra if you keep this transaction a secret.”� She reached into her bag and took out a small money pouch. “How much will the hourglass alone cost?”�

“That will amount to 51 Galleons, 12 Sickles and 26 Knuts.”�

Hermione smiled. It was cheaper than she had expected. She counted out 70 Galleons and handed it to the man. “I suppose this is enough?”�

The man gave another bow. “It is more than enough, Miss. When will you come to get it?”�

“Perhaps this weekend. Is that okay?”�

He nodded. “Certainly, Miss. I’ll have it ready by then.”�

Hermione murmured thanks and gracefully sailed out the door. After half an hour of traipsing through Hogsmeade, she had finally located the jewellery store situated at the far end of the village. She breezed in through the door and immediately talked business with the store owner.

“A 24-carat gold chain?”� the owner repeated, stunned.

“Yes,”� Hermione replied calmly. “Don’t you have any?”�

The owner shook her blond head. “Of course we do, Miss, but this one here,”� she said, pointing to one that was on display, “costs less and is of excellent quality too. Eighteen carats.”�

Hermione frowned in irritation. “The price is not really an issue. Now, if you’re not willing to sell your gold to me, I’ll leave and do business with other stores.”�

“Oh no! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so impolite. It’s just that it’s very seldom that a customer as young as you asks for something that expensive.”� She disappeared into the backroom and returned with a small velvet box. “Here it is, Miss. Have a look first.”� She handed the box to Hermione, who flipped it open and ran her fingers along the finely-woven chain, admiring the way the gold gleamed in the light. One flick of her wand confirmed the authenticity and purity of the gold chain. She gave a satisfied nod at the blond woman.

“I’ll take it,”� Hermione affirmed, returning the box and motioning for the woman to ring up her purchase.

“That will be 200 Galleons, 7 Sickles, 1 Knut, Miss,”� she said, still trembling. Hermione took out two money pouches containing a hundred Galleons each and placed them on the counter. She reached into her pockets for the extra coins while the owner opened the pouches and checked the amount inside. Satisfied, she gathered and swept the coins down the cash register. She packed the box containing the gold chain, tore off the receipt and handed it to Hermione.

“Have a nice day,”� she said, smiling weakly. Hermione merely nodded at her and left her store. 

She returned to the main street of Hogsmeade and set off to the potion apothecary. Hermione had deliberately visited it last to ensure that she bought the most expensive parts of the Time-Turner first. Once inside the store, she gathered all the ingredients she would need, including the magnetic particles, as well as several other ingredients the potion did not require. Hermione thought it best to avoid suspicion being directed at her. She smiled disarmingly at the woman who rang up her purchases, who was chatting happily with her as though she had never sold such a large amount to anybody before.

After leaving the apothecary, Hermione glanced at her timepiece and saw that she still had an hour and fifteen minutes left before her next class. Tired, thirsty, and desperately craving the taste of butterbeer, Hermione gave in to her impulse and decided to pass by the Three Broomsticks before returning to Honeydukes.

She pushed open the door to the tavern and was surprised to see it almost full of people so early in the afternoon. Hermione quickly made her way to the counter and signalled to Madam Rosmerta for attention. “One butterbeer, please,”� she nearly shouted over the conversations around her. The pretty, curvaceous bargirl that had long been the object of Ron’s affections looked at her in surprise, probably because she recognized the Hogwarts uniform, but just grinned.

“The Weasleys must have taught you how to sneak out of Hogwarts into Hogsmeade, huh?”� Madam Rosmerta said, shaking her head in amusement. “I’ll get your drink, Miss Granger, if you’ll just wait over there.”� She gestured towards a lone blank table on the right side of the store. Hermione thanked her and paid for her drink before making her way to the table.

One voice stood out above the din inside the Broomsticks. Swivelling in her chair towards the sound of the voice, Hermione looked and saw, with a thrill of excitement, that it belonged to James Potter. Her lips dried and her pulse accelerated at the sight of him, the one man she had been longing to see for weeks. James was standing beside Sirius Black, Harry’s godfather, and was busy speaking to around thirty people, all of whom Hermione was sure were Aurors from their uniforms. Hermione admired, once more, the authoritative way with which he held himself. He looked even more handsome when he was like that. Her heart was beating painfully fast. Oh, how she loved this man.

The thought shocked her. _Love? Wasn’t it a little late for that?_ She shook her head as though the action would rid her mind of such ideas. It was one thing to find him attractive against her will, downright dangerous to entertain the idea of being in love with him.

The creaky sound of the door being opened distracted Hermione, and she inclined her head towards it, noting the entry of two tall figures, their faces obscured by the black hoods they wore. Hermione’s spine tingled with unease, but none of the other customers seem to have noticed their entrance. The two hooded figures occupied a small table near the door, but Hermione noticed how each one’s hand twitched restlessly inside their own pockets. Hermione slid her own hand inside the pocket of her own robes and felt her wand. Her eyes widened. _Wands._

Madam Rosmerta set down the bottle of butterbeer on her table, and Hermione murmured thanks just as she walked away. She then squinted at the two hooded figures, trying to gauge what their intentions were. She watched as the two bent their heads towards each other as though they were discussing in whispers. One of them nodded as the other looked sharply in James’s direction. Hermione’s blood ran cold. She stood up at once and stealthily wove her way to where James was standing, glancing back at the hooded men once in a while. Both of them were still gazing unrelentingly at the Minister, who wasn’t even aware of their presence. Hermione ignored the panic threatening to overwhelm her and quickened her pace even more.

Hermione had barely reached the table Sirius was occupying when she heard the ruthlessly cold voice utter the words she had been dreading.

“ _Avada Kedavra!_ ”�

 

**Author’s Notes:** _Suchen_ is the German word for search (I think), and _Solucion Contraria el Forzar de Gravedad_ is Spanish. Roughly translated, it means a “potion against the force of gravity”�. Please comment if I have wrongly strung the words together. Don’t forget to review! :)

By the way, somebody from another site has commented on my wrong usage of Floo powder, as well as on my wrong mental map of Diagon Alley. In the first chapter I have included Honeydukes and Zonko’s in Diagon Alley; only when I was writing this chapter did I realise that Honeydukes and Zonko’s are in Hogsmeade. Big, big error. Haha. That said, I shall revise the previous chapters accordingly.

Another piece of news: I have finally found a beta! :) So this is probably my last chapter for a while as we’re still trying to get to know each other and discuss on the previous chapters. :)

**Second Notes:** The initial _Solucion Contraria el Forzar de Gravedad_ was changed to _Solucion Contra la Fuerza de Gravedad_ , as per suggestion of Emily, who was kind enough to suggest a more correct Spanish phrase for it. Thank you! Thank you! :)

I checked the map of Hogsmeade and could not find any jewellery or glass blowing store, but let’s just say there are shops as such, shall we? ;)

Hugs to my beta, Bobbey, who took the effort to check the prices of the goods and converted the US dollars to Wizard money – hence the specific number of Galleons, Sickles and Knuts. It is because of her that this chapter makes so much more sense than it originally did. :)


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